A Princess and a Demon
by MadzieGray
Summary: AU Sarah is the unwanted daughter of King Ricard, with her greatest joys being books and her younger brother Toby. She spends her life resisting her parents and their horrid suitors, until Sarah nearly dies one day and is saved by a demon, something all her countrymen fear. But he isn't as lowly as he claims, and she is now being forced to marry a demon for political gain...
1. A Demonic Savior

Princess Sarah of Brrisa, Daughter of King Ricard, smiled happily at the little blonde boy running around with a shaggy, white-and-gray haired dog. She herself was sitting underneath a large, shady tree beside a creek, enjoying the soft, overgrown grass and the sweet smell on the air.

"Careful, Toby, don't go too deep in the woods!" she called out, glancing up from her book. The young Prince Tobias made a face.

"Aw, Sarah, I was just wanted to chase a squirrel with Merlin." He whined. Sarah shook her head.

"No, Toby, you know what your mother will do if she finds out I let you go into the woods. Besides, if you did chase that poor animal, my sympathies would be entirely with the squirrel." She shaded her eyes from the light as she glanced up at the sun to see it's placement in the sky. Sighing, she shut her book. "We have to be going back anyway, Toby. Irena will have my head if I make you late for your lessons."

The six year old studied the seventeen year old. "You could stay here if you wanted. The guards will escort me back; there's no reason why you can't stay outside."

Sarah looked around, contemplating how nice a day it was and the chances of incurring her stepmother's, Queen Irena, wrath for letting Toby out of her sight. But the guards would escort him to the castle, and they could protect him far better than she ever could, and it was _such_ a nice day…

"Alright," she said, standing, "But I'm taking you to the horses." _And the guards, although they most likely heard everything and are probably on their way here with the horses._ Sarah loved her younger brother, but being as he was going to be next king of Brrisa, he was constantly followed by an entourage of armed guards installed by his mother and Ricard. Despite her apparent perfection, she wasn't the king her father wanted, had felt that the kingdom needed, and so had continuously tried to conceive another child—a _son_—with his first wife, Sarah's mother, until she had died one night birthing another stillborn out of the _many_ that she had birthed before her death. A few years later, after careful consideration, Lady Irena had been Ricard's selection for a new wife. And then some time later, Sarah stood over her baby brother, in awe of what she thought was perfection. His blonde curls, his large blue eyes, his sweet little features…they were everything she thought a little brother, a prince, a king, should be.

But the guards that hovered whenever she was around him, doing nothing but their sworn duty, completely managed to get on her nerves somehow. She would have loved to have spent time with Toby without having at least five other people be around, would have loved to have been trusted with his life as she was with her own; she hadn't had personal guards since Toby's birth.

Toby smiled and accepted the hand she extended towards him, clasping it in his smaller, slightly pudgy one.

"Mama says you're to have visitors soon," the boy said, not realizing just how badly his sister was dreading the coming, would-be suitors their father had scrounged up for her. She shut her eyes briefly.

"Yes, they should be here within the next few weeks." she said, giving her brother a small smile.

"Mama said she hopes you won't be stubborn anymore and will marry one of them already." the child said, not entirely understanding the insult in his words. "She hopes you pick Prince Rutherford."

Sarah frowned slightly at the name; Rutherford of Loomia? She'd met him before at a ball; he'd been an utter bore.

"Irena would," Sarah half muttered, thinking of the fact that Loomia already possessed several alliances with a few of the Demon kingdoms; Brrisa possessed none, and was suffering because of it.

"Will you pick him?" Toby asked curiously.

"No." Sarah responded; she didn't need to think on it. Rutherford was boring and much too concerned with propriety to actually care about it; she'd heard rumors of his silver tongue, and how he particularly aimed it at at ladies of court. "I won't."

"Good; I don't want you to get married." the prince said, grinning. "Then you'd have you to leave, and I want you to stay."

"And who am I to deny the prince?" Sarah laughed, smiling as a group of guards leading two horses (well, one was more a small pony, really) met them.

"The young prince must return to the castle." Sarah said, giving Uris, Toby's head guard, her brother's hand.

"Aye, princess." he said with a nod, not bothering to mention that he'd heard and was coming to collect him. "Shall you be coming with us?"

"No, I'll stay out longer." she could tell he didn't like the idea. "My bow and quiver are on my horse, and I have my dagger. I'll be fine." she said firmly.

"Very well," was the guard's reluctant reply as he handed her the reins to her mare. He turned back to her brother, and lifted him onto his pony. She watched as the guards made a formation around the boy, with Uris leading the horse by his reins, and set off for the castle. Her eyes followed their retreating forms for a moment before walking back to the tree she'd been under, only this time with Petal (her mare) in tow.

Tying the reins to a low tree branch, she sat back down, preparing to start reading again, but she found herself instead simply enjoying the quiet of solitude; no princes to entertain, no parents to appease, no societal expectations...she could just relax, be Sarah. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, breathing deeply.

What harm would having a little nap do...?

**… … ...**

Sarah was having a lovely dream; she was wrapped in a cool, silky shroud on a hot, dry day. But the shroud was tangled around her, almost as if someone had rolled it up and placed it on her like a robe or something. When it began to wrap tighter and tighter, Sarah tried to loosen it, make it become comfortable once again.

It was the loud hissing sound coupled with the sudden feeling of being strangled that woke her.

Her eyes popped open, looking down, and she tried to gasp when she saw a huge, black-green snake wound around and over her body, its face nosing against hers, its forked tongue flicking out to taste her skin. She would have screamed as loudly and shrilly as she possibly could have, but the fact that the snake was _choking her_ prevented that.

She tried to gasp for breath, wondering how in the seven hells a snake could ever be that _big,_ but when its face passed over her own, coiling higher up her head, did she see the strange glow and intelligence in its eyes that let her know that this wasn't an ordinary snake.

It was that of the demon variety.

Which meant that it knew what it was doing, on some strange level.

Trying not to panic, Sarah tried to reach for her dagger, but the snake had almost all of its body wrapped around her torso, and her arms were pinned to her sides.

She opened her mouth, fighting to breathe, and closed her eyes as the snake began to squeeze harder.

_Oh gods what am I going to do what am I going to do what am I going to _do?_ No one to hear me if I managed a scream, no guards watching me._

_No one to save me._

She wriggled, trying to loosen the demon snake's grip on her, but it hissed loudly and crushed her in his coils, causing her to make the loudest of yelps that she could manage. Hot tears coursed down her face as the pressure on her throat became unbearable, and her chest ached for air. Black spots began to eat at her vision, but the need to breathe didn't lessen.

_No, I can't faint, I can't. If I faint I'll die..._

Suddenly the snake and all of its crushing weight was wrenched off of her, and she greedily sucked air down her throat, wincing and painfully coughing as it irritated the aching muscle. She wound up sprawled on the grass under the tree, clutching at her bruised neck as whoever had saved her tried to kill the snake.

_Good luck with that,_ she thought a little grimly,_ Demons are hard to kill, especially by a mort–Did he just kill the snake?_

Surprised by the angry hissing that had been coming from the snake suddenly cutting off, Sarah, still clutching her throat and still struggling to get her breath back, looked up from under her curtain of dark hair, and met her savior, who had crouched over her after apparently killing the demon.

Masses of stick-straight, wild blonde hair that was styled oh so strangely fell around a thin angular face, short pieces of hair that stuck out on the top falling down to his eyes, slightly obscuring them.

"So, you're not dead then, I take it?" her savior asked wryly with a sharp smile, but he watched her as if she were something wild and foreign, as if at any moment she might start screaming bloody murder.

"I—" she wheezed, "I'm alright."

"Perhaps not quite the right word for your current condition, but you are indeed alive." he said, watching as she tried to sit up. He flinched (flinched?) when she moved, but otherwise stayed beside her. Rubbing at her burning throat, she smiled softly at the man. Strange looking though he was, he _had_ just saved her life and dispatched a demon with a speed she had never seen even the most seasoned warriors use. She balanced herself on one hand, still partly hunched over.

"Thank you," she said, wincing as even those quiet words rubbed like steel wool on her throat. Her voice was rough and hoarse, but he seemed to understand her fairly well. "I'm incredibly grateful—" but when she looked at him squarely, and got a good look at his face, she froze, her tongue still poised to say her next words.

A demon.

Not just any demon, no no, a demon who looked very human at first glance, but once you kept looking, you saw the sharp teeth, the ever-so-slightly pointed tips of his ears underneath all the hair, and that odd glow that emanated from all demons' eyes.

A _fae_ demon, the fastest, most cunning demons of them all, had just saved Sarah's life, and was staring at her in a way that was both resigned and amused.

"Yes?" he prodded, staring at her. "You're incredibly grateful for what? That?" he waved a hand toward the bloody, torn carcass of the snake demon that Sarah immediately averted her eyes from, for fear of the turn it gave her stomach. "Think nothing of it, my lady. I only did it because I can't stand demon beasts. They're so...stupid. But oddly enjoyable to kill." he added, almost an afterthought. He raised an eyebrow at her, as she still gaped in frozen horror. Well, horror was a strong word, but Sarah was a Brrisian, and almost all Brrisians were slightly wary of demons. They plagued the entire kingdom, after all, simply because no alliance had been struck between Brrisa and any kingdom in the demon territory, and as the years had passed, Brrisian mortals had grown frightened of the strange creatures, the chances of a treaty becoming fainter and fainter with every stolen babe and changeling left, with every demolished harvest, and with every spell cast on some poor mortal. Sarah had seen astoundingly beautiful ladies at one ball, and then appear at another a month or two later, only now sporting some grotesque deformity for supposed insult done to some demon. Lady Aria, of Wesfell, had had an enchanting face. While she still possessed it, it now had two large but oddly..._dainty_ horns the color of moonbeams jutting out from her forehead, curving upwards and back. Some of the women who had been trying to comfort the girl had mentioned the fact that the silver-white color went perfectly with her pale complexion, soft blue eyes, and flaxen curls, but everyone who had heard the statements knew that being color-coordinated was a very small comfort to the lady.

Needless to say, Sarah hadn't seen Lady Aria at many balls since the incident.

"Well? Aren't you going to scream, cry for someone to save you from the nasty demon?" he taunted, "Or haven't you enough breath yet?"

Sarah snapped her mouth shut, clacking her teeth together. What did she have to fear from him? He had just saved her, and goodness knows he had no obligation to, and he hadn't tried to harm her...

"Do I need to?" she whispered roughly, staring at him as steadily as she could. He smirked, brow still raised.

"If you're asking if I'll hurt you, then no, I won't." he shrugged. "I get no pleasure from torturing defenseless young things such as yourself. Besides, I would have no desire to deal with the consequences of harming a lady of this country; you are all so bloody quick to kill demons."

Sarah stared. "I...what makes you think I am a lady?"

He gestured with a gloved hand to her gown; a deep, deep emerald that while completely bereft of all and any embellishments, was clearly made from a very fine and expensive fabric, and was perfectly tailored to her form, something that no homespun, aging dress of a common farmer or even wealthy merchant's daughter would own. Besides that, her skin was soft and blemish free, her hair smelled of sweet perfume and was as silky as could be, and she spoke in refined, polished tones.

The epitome of a lady.

His facial expression was calling her an idiot, and she became defensive.

"I could only be a rich merchant's daughter, or the companion to a lady." she said, voice still hoarse and everything between her jaw and her hips ached fiercely. Truthfully, she was surprised nothing was broken, with the amount of pressure that demon had been exerting on her. He laughed.

"No you couldn't; you would have simply been flattered to be mistaken for one of your betters and allowed me to address you as such. Instead, you deny what you are and try to pass yourself off as something you are not for fear of what treatment your title would earn you." he studied her curiously. "Clean fingernails, babe-smooth skin, jewelry..." his eyes fell on her ring and pendant critically. A thin band of silver filigree with a large amethyst, and a fat, gleaming pearl dangling from a gold chain. "Those baubles would have put any merchant back, and being as they would be some of the few pieces of jewelry you owned, you would hardly consider them lounging-by-the-river attire." he shrugged. "Therefore; lady. A very well-connected lady, at that, for you to live near the Brrisa castle. Or do you live in it?" she didn't speak; indecision stilled her tongue. He laughed in his throat.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"No," she said, finally, setting her expression. "And yes, I am a lady." she looked into his eyes; was one pupil larger than the other? "And despite what you say, I am grateful to you, no matter what your reasons were for coming to my aide." She tried to clear her throat, and winced at the spike of pain the action elicited. He watched her, curious.

"You know, as a demon, I could actually heal that for you."

Sarah blinked at him, wondering if he was offering his assistance, or just casually stating that if the whim struck him he could actually heal her injuries.

"I did not know that, thank you for informing me." she finally decided to answer with, resuming her gentle ministrations of trying to assuage the bruising skin by rubbing it. If he offered her his help so be it, but she would not ask for it. He had done far more than his share by saving her life and slaying that demon, and she wouldn't ask anymore of him. Besides, she disliked being indebted to someone, and add in her ingrained dislike of demons...

The demon sent her an annoyed look. "Don't bother with your pretty manners, girl. Do you want me to heal your injuries or not?" he raised both eyebrows in question at her. "Or would you fancy telling your parents of a demon attack?"

She paled; if she had to explain her injuries, which of course she would in order to receive treatment for them, then she would have to explain how she managed to survive a demon snake attack, and then she would have to conjure a savior to receive thanks for saving the princess's life.

And a demon would _not_ be treated kindly as her champion; more likely he would be interrogated about his presence in Brrisa in the first place and probably arrested and tried for attempted assassination or something like that. Was that anyway to treat someone who had saved her life?

She certainly hadn't been raised to think so.

"I wouldn't deny your help if you offered it, but I ask that you not feel obligated to help the "defenseless young thing" you incidentally saved in your endeavor to slay the beast." she said, her tone somewhat dry and mocking despite her scratchy voice. For all her "pretty manners", Sarah could be known to have a witty and occasionally sharp tongue. Being as that was an unfit quality for a princess to possess, she rarely exercised it or risked a tongue lashing from her stepmother, a woman who while as sweet as could be in front of society, could be very harsh indeed when the curtains closed. She sent him a small, mirthless smirk to let him know that she was employing some sarcasm, and he returned it.

"Well, how could I not offer it after your moving display of imploring and beseeching? Appealed to my inner humanity and better nature, you did." he drawled sarcastically, but moved closer to her, hands reaching for her neck. Her eyes widened the closer he got, but she didn't move away or make a noise of protest. His eyes raked over her, likely looking for areas he would need to heal, and he stilled and his peculiar eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I wouldn't object if you minded your pretty manners enough so as to _not_ reach for that dagger on your hip while I do this; it would only be polite."

Sarah just barely refrained from snorting. "Why ever would I stab you? Demon or not, intentions be damned, you saved my life and are now healing my wounds; those are favors I would hardly repay with a knife to the gut." she said derisively, making him grudgingly chuckle.

"And what would you consider decent compensation, my lady? A lovely little curtsy, a chaste buss on my cheek, some handkerchief or shiny bauble?" his voice slid into lower octaves and his eyes teased as his palms touched the base of her neck, making Sarah blush and want to shove him away. "Or would you offer me something a little more...enticing? From the sound of that tongue of yours, you certainly have some spirit in you."

Sarah glared fiercely, but despite herself a faint heat spread across her face. "Did you not say so yourself that you don't enjoy tormenting the defenseless?"

"And am I tormenting you?"

"Hardly," she growled contrarily at his patronizing tone, or tried to, at any rate. Growling hurt worse than clearing her throat; she coughed and prepared to clutch at her aching neck, but suddenly a warmth began spreading through her skin, penetrating deep into her throat muscles and windpipe, flaring briefly as an itchy, tingly pain, but then fading in degrees until there was no sensation at all other than that of his hands on her.

She hesitantly took a deep breath, flexing her arms and torso, and smiled in relief when there was no pain. If the rumors of demon magic were true, than Sarah would return home in the condition she had arrived at the river in; completely unscathed. Her smile was polite but grateful when she looked back at the demon as he removed his hands from her.

"Once again, I thank you." she nodded to him, her voice completely normal, and frowned as a thought suddenly came to her. "You yourself were not hurt, were you?"

He made a rude noise in the face of her genuine concern. "That demon-beast attacked you for a reason; you looked weak. Had you been awake when he'd approached, you yourself might have even been able to scare him off." he jerked his chin to the dagger attached to her belt. "A few good sticks with that and he'd have been slithering away from you as fast as he could. So, being a heavily seasoned _demon_ warrior, I should hope I could manage to kill the thing without sustaining an injury."

Sarah frowned at his rude tone, sitting up with her legs folded under her. "I was merely asking a question. I simply wanted to know if you'd been hurt, considering it would have been my bloody fault."

He raised an eyebrow. "The only thing that is your fault is being stupid enough to be near a known demon-inhabited area with your defenses down and no bloody guards. Honestly. If your family could afford that gown and those jewels, surely hiring a personal guard wouldn't be such a burden."

She opened her mouth to deliver a sharp, devastating retort, only to realize that she didn't have one and was forced to gently close her mouth. Instead of responding she glanced at the sky, wondering the hour, and just barely bit back a curse when she saw that the sun was getting dangerously low in the sky; give it a bit more time, and it would be setting soon. Seeming to notice her questioning of the time, the demon smiled sharply at her.

"Mayhap in the future you will pay closer attention to your surroundings, my lady." he said, and with a wink, seemingly disappeared. Sarah jumped, startled, and twisted around, looking for him and his wild hair. When she didn't spot him, she relaxed and glanced at Petal, who'd done nothing but stand there while her mistress had been attacked by a demon snake and had conversed with her demon savior.

"Pet, it is a wonder we don't sell your worthless hide." Sarah sighed in reprimand at the horse as she untied the reins and elegantly hitched herself onto the pretty light gray mare. "Honestly; not even a whinny of distress when you see me being strangled, or a nervous twitch when you see me conversing with an unknown person? A _demon?_ Humph. Some friend you are." she muttered, then gently started Petal into a slow, easy walk. "Come along Petal; I promised Toby I'd read him a story tonight."

**… … ...**

The demon, who hadn't actually disappeared but had instead leaped into the branches of the tree the girl had been under, watched as she spoke to her horse and listened to her when they went out of sight.

Odd; he'd expected her to race home, either quaking with suppressed fear or brimming with excitement over her little misadventure and being _saved_ by a _demon,_ dying on the inside to tell someone of the afternoon's events, but instead she merely chided her horse and toddled off home, talking about reading someone a bedtime story.

How odd humans could be, and this black haired, green-eyed woman—no, she wasn't quite a woman yet, not completely—was the oddest yet.

Maybe he might just see what made her so odd?


	2. A Second Encounter

**Disclaimer that I forgot to do on the first chapter: Sources say I don't own anything but the plotbunny and a few names; I'm inclined to agree.**

**A/N: I just want to thank all of you who read, reviewed, favored, or decided to follow (or who all-of-the-aboved) this story! I wasn't sure what kind of reception it would receive, being AU, but so far I haven't had a single complaint or flame! I also want to give a special thanks to Kyndsie and Kaytori; thanks so much for alerting me to those nasty typos in the first chapter! I'd thought I'd had them fixed too! Oh well; I'm fairly certain there aren't very many in this story. Since it took me so long to write, I had some time to edit.**

**Also, if any of you are readers of my other Labyrinth fanfics, "Wished Away" and "What the Jonquil Meant" rest assured that I'm writing the next chapters to each of those as well; this one just got written quicker.**

* * *

"Sarah, read it again." was the sleepy murmur that she heard as she tried to gently close the storybook that she'd read to Toby, smiling at the request. Toby always asked her to reread whatever story she'd recited to him, in a vain attempt to try and fight off the pull of sleep.

"You're too tired to stay awake for a second time," she said, smoothing her hand across his forehead and back into his already mussed curls.

"Am not." was the sighed protest as his lashes fluttered, probably feeling even more tired than before because of his sister's ministrations; Sarah knew how comforting it felt to have fingers run through her hair. It had been the only way to get her to sleep some nights, having a motherly maid who wouldn't mind stroking the princess's soft, silky hair until she drifted off to her dreams.

"Are too." she said softly, bending down to brush a feather-light kiss on his forehead.

"G'night, Sarah." he sighed, and as she pulled back she noted his even, deep breathing, and his completely relaxed face.

"Goodnight Toby." she whispered, and not making a sound as she stood from where she'd been sitting on Toby's large bed, and silently moved to a bookshelf and placed the volume of fables in its rightful place. With a glance back at the sleeping boy, Sarah stepped out of the chamber, shut the door as quietly as she could, and proceeded to walk as quickly as she could to her own rooms.

When Sarah had arrived back at the castle after leaving the river, she had felt terrified that someone would somehow be able to tell what had happened, that she would give herself away. But in the time it had taken her to get Petal settled, rush to her chambers to change for dinner, and arrive at the table where Ricard, Irena, and Toby sat, no one had guessed a thing. Her father and stepmother mostly ignored her throughout dinner, and Toby was too concerned with his food to pester Sarah, so her slightly odd behavior hadn't raised any eyebrows.

So her secret was safe; besides her demonic rescuer, no one else knew a thing.

Arriving at her rooms, Sarah quickly went in and shut the door behind her, leaning heavily against it. She had nearly died today.

She had nearly _died._

That wasn't something a sheltered princess took lightly!

Laughing unsteadily, she ran a shaky hand through her thick locks, biting her lip. She was and would remain grateful to the demon who had saved her life, but now that she was back in the safety of the castle, she had to wonder what he had been doing there in the first place. Granted, the large forest that bordered Castle Brrisa was also a border to demon land, so he could have simply been traipsing through it and happened upon her...had he only been able to save her life because of a fortunate coincidence?

So long as he hadn't been about to do anyone or anything harm, Sarah could have honestly cared less about his reasons for being where he'd been. While demons were frightening to her, she didn't share the same prejudice that her father and her countrymen had. King Ricard didn't hate demons, necessarily, but he didn't care for them very much. Sarah thought it was because they could have cared less if they struck a truce with the small kingdom that was Brrisa, and her father took this as an insult and slight to his pride. What need did demons have for another friendship with yet another human kingdom? That just meant less humans to prey upon. If she had been a demon, she didn't think that she would be keen on befriending the humans either.

But she also didn't think she would go about giving lovely young girls horns for some imagined slight.

Sighing, Sarah moved to her large, magnificent bed and fell onto it in an unladylike heap, laying on her stomach and with one cheek pressed into the coverlet, closing her eyes. She didn't feel tired in the least bit; on the contrary, she felt as if she could get up and run around as she'd done as a child. She suspected the demon's healing had something to do with this, and thought that it must be a wonderful thing, to be able to heal injuries like that in a finger-snap's time. Smiling with her eyes closed, she thought of her fae savior. He'd been handsome, in an angular, pointed sort of way, once she'd been able to see past the highly unusual and outlandish clothing and hair.

_And he hadn't even asked for payment in return..._she thought happily, but froze and opened her eyes. Did she owe him now, for saving her life? Of course she would have been indebted to any human, but he was demon, fae at that; they were known to posses strange and fickle customs. A hand went to her throat in alarm as an image of the horned Lady Aria flashed through her mind; a fae demon had been the one to do that to her, if the rumors were to be believed.

Trying to think calmly, Sarah considered her encounter with the demon. Had he not stated, even if in a mocking manner, that he didn't enjoy to "torment defenseless young things?" But what, exactly, did he consider torment? And some sort of curse or transformation wasn't the only thing that he could do to her; she was basically as indebted as a person could get to him...and he had not actually said what he would consider good retribution for his efforts, but had merely taunted Sarah with what he had thought she, a "lady", might offer. She bit her lip, wondering if she had seen the last of the blonde demon. And if she hadn't, would it be a good or a bad thing?

Deciding that she would think about such things tomorrow, Sarah quickly rolled onto her back and got up off her bed, moving to the wardrobe where her gowns were stored. Her nimble fingers made quick work of the stays at the back of her more-elaborate dinner gown, and soon enough she was sliding it off her shoulders and down her arms, letting it become a pile of fine fabric on the floor. Lightly shivering as her exposed skin goose-fleshed, she quickly pulled her nightdress over her head and shoved her arms through the sleeves. The gown was puritanical white and high-necked, with slightly billowy sleeves that were gathered with a ribbon at each wrist. The hem fell to a little above her ankles, and while the nightgown didn't hug her figure, it wasn't shapeless.

She moved back to her bed, pulling back the blankets and slipping under them. Sarah probably wouldn't sleep for a long while yet, but she figured that she should go through the motions of going to sleep, if only just to prepare herself for when she did feel tired.

Would it be wise of her to go back to the spot by the creek? Irena had told her that she was to be given another day to herself, sans Toby, as she wasn't needed for any meetings or lessons or any other royal duties princesses had. She didn't see why not; the fae was gone, and so long as he didn't want anything else from her, it should be safe.

And if he had been kind enough to save her from a certain death, than surely he wouldn't so cruel as to demand something from her, or hurt her in some way? Sarah smiled; and if he _did_ demand payment, then she could certainly afford to give it to him. One of the pros of being a princess.

Satisfied that her refuge wasn't lost to her, Sarah closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into her pillow, waiting for sleep to come and claim her.

**… … …**

Sarah managed to keep her schedule clear after breakfast, thankfully not being told any last-minute plans by Irena at the table, and was currently in the stable brushing off Petal, preparing to go back the river for a spot of relaxation and to enjoy the sun. She couldn't help but feel a little sorry for young Toby; while she got to go out and seize the day, he was stuck in the castle learning one boring lesson from one stuffy professor after another. Ah well; it was an unfortunate price that Toby had to pay in order to be a good king. And so far, it was one that Toby was paying with few complaints.

She sighed in appreciation as she led the brushed and saddled horse out of the stable, climbing onto Petal once she was out in the open. With her bow and quiver slung over her shoulder and her dagger on her hip, she set off for the creek, determined to sit under the shady tree and read her book until the hour forced her to return home for dinner.

Arriving there, she swung herself off of Petal and led the horse by the reins to the creek and allowed her to drink before tying her to a tree branch to munch on grass and enjoy the fresh air. Even if Petal hadn't been tied to the tree she in all likelihood wouldn't run off, but Sarah didn't want to risk something spooking her and causing her to bolt. Once Petal's reins were tightly wound around a branch Sarah reached into the leather pouch attached to the saddle and pulled out her book, holding it against her middle as she sat down beside the tree trunk, laying her bow and quiver on the ground beside her as she got comfortable. Sitting with her legs curled up beside her, she arranged her dress so that it covered her ankles and leaned back until she felt rough bark, opening her book to the pages she'd marked with a tasseled placeholder.

She made it through several long chapters when she felt as if she suddenly wasn't alone, and with curiosity glanced upwards, her eyes perfectly prepared to go right back to her book, but instead of seeing nothing but grass and shrubs and trees, they landed on one wild-haired demon standing not four feet away from her.

She gasped and flinched, her hand flying to her heart as it tried to jump out of her chest. How had he gotten there without her knowing? How long had he been there? And most importantly, _what did he want?_

Striving for the composed mask she was forced to wear when acting the role of a princess, she swallowed and met the demon's smirking eyes.

"Hello." Sarah said, clearing her throat. She was pleased that she only just barely sounded nervous, while in fact her heart was still pounding and she wasn't sure whether or not to reach for her knife. Savior or not, fae demons were capricious, and while he might have wanted to help her yesterday, he could just as easily want to torment her today.

He tilted his head, his eyes slightly obscured by the strands of hair falling in them. The smirk on his face showed his sharp teeth, and Sarah gulped again.

"Why?" he asked suddenly, unequal eyes narrowing at her minutely.

"Why what?" she asked automatically, still seated on the grass, her book forgotten in her hand. Had she missed something that he'd said?

"Why didn't you tell anyone of our encounter?" he asked, still staring at her shrewdly. "And why aren't you screaming now?"

Blinking at first in misunderstanding, she tilted her own head at him, her fear diminishing. "I did not think it would be prudent for either of us if I told someone about what happened yesterday, and I don't find it necessary to scream." she raised her brows at him. "Are you tying to say that I _should_ be screaming?"

Rolling his strange blue eyes, he walked closer and crouched down so that he was closer to her eye-level and was no longer towering above her. Sliding in her placeholder, she closed her book and gave the demon all of her attention, just as he was giving her all of his. She took in his outlandish clothing; a frilled, cream colored shirt with a v-shaped neckline that plunged to show the slim muscles of his chest, tight, form hugging trousers, tall black boots with a thick heel, and a strange medallion on a long cord around his neck. His gaze was so intense that she wanted to squirm under it, and wished that he would speak already. Having him just gaze at her was...disconcerting.

"I can understand how it would not have been prudent for myself had you told, but I fail to see how it would have damaged you anyway. Even considering your country's opinion of demons." He smirked while speaking the last part, but his eyes were still shrewd. He raised one sharply angled brow. "You were more vocal at our last meeting. What? Afraid I'm going to demand some form of compensation for inadvertently saving you?"

Sarah shook her head slightly, to both clear it and to answer him. "No, it is not that. I would be happy to repay you for saving my life, if you so wished it." she licked her suddenly dry lips. "It's just...I did not expect to see you again."

The demon shrugged. "I was curious about you. You didn't act like a normal human and I was intrigued by it, and wanted to see how you would react to seeing me again."

Sarah quirked a brow at this. "And did I react as you expected?" she asked, her tone slightly sour. Truthfully, she was just relieved that he hadn't returned to ask something impossible of her or to put a curse on her or something of the like. The demon smiled, showing his sharp teeth.

"No."

Sarah smiled back. "Well I'm glad I was not predictable." she set her book down on the grass beside her, next to her bow, and turned back to the demon, who had tensed and had one hand near his boot, where he undoubtedly kept a dagger. She crossed her arms and gave him an imperious stare.

"I am not going to hurt you." she said in irritation. "You saved my life and have given me no reason to think that you will harm me. Do I appear so untrustworthy that you are constantly expecting an attack?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. The demon blinked at her, partly amused and partly surprised. He relaxed and moved his hand away from his boot, giving her a lopsided smile as he tilted his head.

"You must be a lady. That is the only way you could condone speaking to a man in such a way."

Sarah blushed. "Well, er, yes. I thought we had decided I was nobility yesterday?" she said, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. Suddenly struck by a thought, she looked at him sharply. "Are you a lord?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He had too much..._confidence,_ in her mind, to not be nobility. He laughed, his head tilting back.

"No, my lady, I am not a lord." he said, his face full of mischief. Sarah continued to watch him.

"So you are a commoner?" she asked dubiously.

"No." he was still grinning.

Sarah sighed and rolled her eyes. "Very well; be obtuse."

The demon's head was still tilted, and short locks of hair were still falling into his eyes. "You still did not answer my question."

"Which question was that?"

"Why you thought it would be damaging to you to tell of our encounter."

"Oh." Sarah said, and shrugged. Sarah was strictly forbidden from shrugging when in the company of others, as according to Irena it was an unladylike gesture, so she only did so when in the presence of those who would not care. And she doubted very much that the demon would mind. "I am...not particularly...understood, by my family, and I did not want to risk your hide nor mine should I have incurred my family's wrath. They are most prejudiced against demons, you see, and my not killing you and allowing you to rescue me could have been seen as an act of treason."

The demon frowned. "But you are their child; surely they would have simply been glad to know that you had survived a demon attack? Not many mortals live through those, you know."

Sarah grimaced. "I do know. And no; my father would probably have preferred it had I simply died. Better to be made a martyr than a traitor." she said to the demon's disgusted expression, completely unhurt by her own words. To have been hurt by the truth would have been pointless, in Sarah's mind, especially when it had been made brutally clear to her since Toby's birth. That wasn't to say that Ricard hated his eldest; no, he simply saw her as an uncooperative pawn to be used in his political games. Losing her would be like losing a strong, trusty mount from his stables; unfortunate and troublesome, but not altogether something that would disturb his sleep for long.

"Good gods, you father sounds like an ass." the demon said as he shook his head, "No wonder you live so close to Brrisa Castle; King Ricard and your father must be extremely close."

She smiled dryly. "Yes, I suppose you could say that." she said with a slight chuckle. She decided it would be best to not tell him of her station, for various reasons. His opinion of her father was just an additional one. "What is your name?" she asked, leaning more comfortably against the tree as she loosely crossed her arms over her middle.

"My name?" the demon asked. Sarah nodded, hoping that she hadn't breached some demon etiquette by inquiring about his name. "I am...Jareth."

Choosing to ignore the hesitation that had come before his name, Sarah smiled and gave a single nod of her head; the common way to greet a person when introductions are made. "And I am Sarah." The demon, Jareth, stared at her for a moment.

"Is the princess of your lands not named Sarah as well?" he asked coyly, moving from his crouch so that he was sitting on the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him, and he was leaning back on his palms.

Sarah nodded, and tried to not show her apprehensiveness. Was her identity about to be revealed so soon? "She is indeed." she said, clearing her throat. Could he tell she was lying by omission? Her voice was fairly even, but did he have some fae power that could sense lies? She would have normally slapped herself for thinking something so ridiculous but he _was_ a fae after all. She knew next to nothing about the fae and their powers, and hadn't the foggiest notion of what Jareth could and could not do.

"If your father and the king are so close, than I take it you have met the princess." the words themselves were harmless, but she sensed the trap in his tone. Assuming an expression that she often wore when out in society or when she was expected to be a princess in all aspects, she carefully answered him.

"Yes, I am acquainted with the Princess Sarah. With all of the royal family, in fact." she shrugged, making sure to appear innocent and guileless.

Jareth smiled lazily. "And tell me, are the rumors about the Brrisian princess true?"

Now this was also a dangerous question; Sarah wasn't entirely sure of what gossip she made in court, as she wasn't close enough with anyone who would know the rumors, and no one would dare insult the princess to her face...so she was left without knowing what exactly Jareth knew about her.

"I'm not one to follow the gossips of the nobility." she said while shrugging one shoulder. That, at least, she thought he would believe. He chuckled.

"Now that I believe." he said with a smirk. "I've heard that the princess can be very distant and cool when out among society, showing very little emotion. However, when not in view of the public eye, she can be...tempestuous, a bit of a trial to be near. She has refused every suitor who has come to call on her just to spite her father and stepmother, and while the reason for this varies the most common version is that she cannot stand King Ricard and Queen Irena simply because Ricard married Irena and they conceived Prince Tobias, who replaced the princess as Ricard's heir. Though I have heard that she is quite beautiful." he said, the addition probably just an afterthought. Jareth glanced back at her, his eyes having lost their focus as he'd recited the rumors surrounding Sarah. "So, having met her, would you say the rumors are true, or nay?"

Sarah couldn't deny that she was more reserved when she had to act the princess, but she hardly thought she was distant! And considering the idiocy that ran rampant through most of the nobility Sarah knew, she thought that it was far better for her to hide her emotions and thoughts rather than start a damn war because she had shredded the wrong person with her sharp tongue. And as for being labeled tempestuous...well, she thought that Irena's opinion of her had much to do with that particular bruit. If Sarah so much as voiced an opinion that was contradicting to Irena's on anything from the fabric of a new gown to whom she should marry, Irena called her stubborn and shrewish and all other sorts of insults. Her circle of friends and servants were often subjected to hearing a list of Sarah's faults, and considering Irena was friends with some of the worst gossips in and out of the kingdom, her failings were spread around for the whole world to know. And as for simply disliking Irena and Ricard because of their marriage and the lack of biological ties between Irena and Sarah, she was _positive_ that was a lie her "parents" had told. Sarah didn't want to think about being considered beautiful; she only knew she wasn't homely and disliked looking slovenly, and besides that she refused to adopt anymore vanities. She knew too many princesses who had prided themselves on their looks and had landed in trouble for it. She returned her attention to the demon, who was watching her with a raised eyebrow, no doubt wondering what was taking her so long to answer.

"Well...I cannot say that she is ugly, so I suppose she is pretty. I have never been one to notice physical beauty." Sarah shrugged. "She is reserved when in public, but _it_ is considered bad manners for a lady to be otherwise. Being as I myself do not care overtly for my king and queen, I can only imagine how the princess feels about them. And as for being shrewish, well..." Sarah smiled. "She has a temper, but I have seen worse."

"Hm...so a bit like what the gossips say, only not so exaggerated?" Jareth asked and Sarah nodded. She could have lied, but for some reason she didn't want the demon to think badly of her. She knew it would not be the woman sitting in front of him that he would be thinking badly of, but some faceless princess miles away, but that still didn't stop her from wanting him to have a good opinion of her.

"And from what kingdom do you hail from, Jareth?" she asked curiously, one of her hands moving to twist a ring about the middle finger of her opposite hand. Jareth glanced at her, and for some reason he did not seem to be as relaxed as he had been a moment ago.

"What makes you think demons have kingdoms?" he asked with a saucy smirk, and Sarah rolled her eyes.

"I may not be knowledgeable on demons, but I know that the different species have different territories, and different kingdoms within said territories. So from which do you hail?"

Jareth shifted on his palms, studying the grass with keen interest. "I do not hail from a _kingdom,_ per say, but the area in which I live in is inhabited by a king."

Tilting her head, Sarah gave him a puzzled look. "So which king's territory do you live in?"

He waved a hand, which she noticed was covered by a black leather glove. "It matters not."

Deciding that it didn't really matter, and because she felt guilty for being dishonest about her identity, she let herself be satisfied with his vague, non-answer. She wanted to ask another question, but she felt it would be rude, and she also wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. But of course, her conscience wouldn't let her simply forget her inquiry; it had to do with him saving her life.

"Jareth," she said, unconsciously nibbling on her lower lip as both of his brows winged up, awaiting her question. "Do you truly not want any sort of payment? No matter that you were just killing the beast for sport, I feel...guilty, that you rescued me and I haven't repaid you." she held up a hand when he opened his mouth, no doubt to deliver a protest. "I intensely dislike feeling indebted to people, and I fear that the debt I owe you is quite large."

Jareth's face twisted in a cruel grin; all sharp teeth and harsh glinting eyes and malicious intent. It made Sarah's breath catch in her throat and her heart skip a beat as she simply sat there, doubting her ability to fight off a demon. True, Sarah had been trained to defend herself, but there was only so much that the men were willing to teach her. Uris had taught her the rudimentary basics of how to handle a knife, and she had been shooting a bow since she had been thirteen. But this fae was clearly competent with weapons, and she _was_ just a seventeen-year-old princess, after all. Before she could even blink a hand was wrapped around her throat, and another had four fingers cradling her cheek while a thumb stroked her lips. She turned her wide, pale green eyes to Jareth, her heart thumping painfully in her chest. He was smirking mockingly at her, moving closer until his face was but two scant inches from her own. Up close, she saw fine lines on his skin, suggesting that he was older than she had originally thought.

His hand wasn't squeezing her throat; it was more or less just wrapped around it, and the hand on her face was positively gentle. A soft shudder wracked her frame with each swipe of his thumb on her lips.

"Now now my lady, you really should be careful about who you give power over you. The fae take these things quite seriously, you know." he taunted her, that vicious smile still contorting his lips. Gods were his eyeteeth _sharp._

Staring into his eyes, Sarah didn't bother to try and hide her fear; she had a feeling he'd sense it anyway. Swallowing against his hand, she parted her lips to draw in a deep breath, not knowing that it could be perceived as an invitation of sorts.

"As do humans," she said, her voice wavering and making her clear her throat. . "Only we do not necessarily think of it as power over someone. Or we do not like to, anyway." her voice was a little breathless, but she blamed that on being terrified of the fae demon before her, but for the most part it was firm, resolute in its knowledge. For in her mind, it was true. The only people, or the only _humans_ anyway, who considered someone being indebted to them as some sick form of power were nothing but bastards, through and through. And Sarah did _not_ use the term as an insult to a person born out of wedlock. The demon made a little noise in his throat; half-mocking, half-amusement.

"Yes, my dear lady, but you are not dealing with a human now, are you?" he asked with a chuckle. Sarah did nothing but stare him down, for once in her life being grateful for the lessons she'd endured as a child on how to school her features. In face of her composure, he still taunted her in a tone she was now _just_ realizing had an accent she'd yet to hear; perhaps it was one only known to demon lands? "Aren't you frightened of what I'll ask for? Afraid I may demand something that you are unwilling or can not afford to give?"

She gulped, but other than that no action betrayed her fear. "You would be surprised as to what I can afford to give." she said, her tone whisper-soft and dry. He moved back slightly, still grinning but likely surprised by her apparent lack of fear, and laughed.

"Considering your attire, I do believe indeed that there is little your family could not afford." Sarah resisted the urge to look down at herself; she knew the gown she wore, a deep sky blue silk that had a border of gold and emerald thread-work at the sleeves, neckline, and waist, would have cost more than any farmer could make in a year. She again wore the pearl on the chain that had graced her neck the day before, but the ring on her middle finger was different from the delicate amethyst bauble she'd worn. Gold, it was a single solid band, but that twisted around a bit of topaz in the shape of a finely cut circle. While Sarah didn't possess a love for jewels, she was required to at least resemble a princess or lady, even if there were no planned engagements. Irena said that by always dressing finely, but perhaps if not formally, would guarantee that Sarah would never be caught unawares by things like the surprise visit of a royal dignitary or something like that. While she saw the logic in her stepmother's thinking, she partly thought that the woman had just been inventing reasons to get Sarah to "dress appropriately" as Irena called it.

"So, precious lady, what _will_ you give me?" Jareth asked her, raising an arrogant brow as he watched, his thumb resuming its ministrations over her lower lip. Not allowing herself to shiver this time, she raised her own eyebrow at him, deciding that he was in all probability not going to accost her. Taunt and insult her maybe, but not physically harm her. The hand at her throat wasn't even exerting very much pressure, but was just merely a cool, leathery, and slightly frightening, presence on her skin.

"I suppose it would depend upon what you wanted."

"And if it was something you felt you couldn't give, would you refuse me?"

Sarah wasn't sure what made her answer honestly, as lying probably would have been the smarter, but tell the truth she did. "Considering that the list of items which I would not give is short; yes, I would refuse you them."

He gave another laugh, but this one wasn't as sharp or harsh the ones before. "Well then; considering that I doubt you'll be willing to give me anything I'd be interested in, why don't we just say you owe me a..._favor_, which I may collect at the time of my choosing."

Well now how was she supposed to respond to that? Disagreeing could prove dangerous and didn't seem like the wisest of decisions, but Sarah didn't like the emphasis he'd given the word _favor_, and disliked the thought of owing him one. However, she was only alive because of him, and if all he was choosing to take in return was one favor...

"Very well Jareth; I owe you one favor in return for saving my life." she said calmly, "Now would you be so kind as to remove your hands from my person?"

The grin he gave her was pure, unadulterated mischief and boyish delight. It was completely incongruous with his demeanor and appearance, being as it was the sort of smile that little Toby would give her when he was about to say something precociously impudent.

"If you want them gone so badly, why not reach for your little dagger and force them off you?"

Sarah rolled her eyes and moved his hands off of her, swatting at them with the backs of her hands. Grin still in place, Jareth moved away from her until he was once again lying prone on the grass, watching her with mirth still evident in his eyes.

"Tell me, my lady, why did you return here? Weren't you worried about meeting me again?"

She shook her head and shrugged. "Perhaps I was a little apprehensive of what you would want so badly as to risk returning, but mostly I did not think I would see you again, so I did not think there was much to worry about." she tilted her head at him. "How did you know I would be back here? I doubt you spend large quantities of time in Brrisa..."

"I don't," he assured her, "I was just seeing if you would return to this spot after being attacked here."

"Oh." Sarah said, wondering why he had been so curious about what she would or would not do, but not wanting to ask him aloud. Jareth looked as if perhaps he wanted to say something, but he suddenly whipped his around to study their surroundings, eyes narrowing on the path that Sarah took to get from the castle to the river.

"My lady Sarah?" Sarah closed her eyes briefly in despair as Uris's voice carried to where she and Jareth sat.

_If Uris finds us, I'm doomed._ She thought as she opened her eyes to look at Jareth, who was in a defensive crouch and was slowly pulling a dagger from his right boot, his eyes menacing slits that were fixated on the spot Sarah had a feeling Uris would be occupying. She glared at the demon.

"Drop that knife!" she hissed as quietly as she could, ignoring Jareth's fierce glower. "Explaining your presence is _not_ something I would like to do, but I don't want to explain a dead body even more so! Leave now and he won't suspect anything!" Now hearing the sound of a horse approaching, her eyes widened. If Uris caught Sarah in the presence of a demon, no amount of talking would get her out of a pair of shackles, and if Jareth could not (but she very much doubted this) defeat him in a fight, then he would die. And if Jareth could, and Sarah would have gambled that this was the likelier scenario, defeat Uris, then she would not have only lost a friend, but would have been forced to explain the guard's death.

_What is he doing here? He should be with Toby, not looking for me!_ She thought, the beginnings of panic starting to unfurl in her belly when she noticed that Jareth was _still there,_ crouched on the ground. Then, using what she could only assume was demonic speed, he was beside her, tall enough to still slightly tower over her frame and much, much too close for comfort.

"Be here tomorrow, in the morning." Jareth said, low enough to not be heard by the still-approaching Uris, but so firm as to not be mistaken as anything but a demand. Sarah, who was still leaning away from him after her initial flinch of surprise, furrowed her brow and tightened her mouth in annoyance.

"Do not order me!" she whispered angrily, "And I can't just—"

"Sarah? Sarah!" Uris called, and she could hear the horse's pace increase. Taking her eyes off Jareth to watch for Uris, she continued.

"I can't just disappear tomorrow. Two days free of engagements is not a normalcy in my life!" she nearly growled, hating that it was the truth. Time spent away from the castle and the servants and her family was a rare occurrence indeed; she wasn't sure how she had even managed to have two consecutive days of it.

"Be here." Jareth ordered, his tone and expression brooking no room for argument. She could still hear his order echo in her ears as he disappeared from her sight, and probably the general area, as she hastily grabbed her book and tried to situate herself to look as if she had been doing nothing but sitting and reading, too absorbed in the words to hear Uris's calls. Her breath was coming a little faster than normal, but she doubted the guard would notice.

"Sarah! _Sarah!"_ his calls were panicked now, and taking a deep, calming breath, Sarah finally responded just as the guard came into view.

"I am here, Uris." she said, slightly apologetic and making her expression rueful. She stood, watching as the worry that had tightened his face relaxed in relief at seeing her whole and safe. "What is it?"

"Your father has requested your presence." he told her, his eyes softening. Uris was older than her, that much Sarah knew, but certainly not enough to be considered her father or her uncle or anything like that. If anything, he could be her elder brother, but nothing more. "I was not told why."

Sarah frowned. "He had you leave my brother to come fetch me?" Ricard risk his precious heir just to have his superfluous and difficult daughter brought to him? What sort of madness was this?

"He did not think the other guards would be able to find you as quickly as I could, nor that they would be able to persuade you to come as quickly as me." Uris grinned and gestured to Petal with his chin. "Come, princess. I doubt you want to annoy your father by making him wait."

Smiling, Sarah untied Petal's reins and lifted herself up onto the saddle, just barely remembering to ride as a lady would. Uris might have willing to teach her the basics of self-defense, which had been more than any of the other men had been willing to do, but even the pragmatic soldier had expectations of what a lady, a _princess,_ should be and what she should do. No amount of affection or sympathy for the girl would change that.

And as she had at many times in her life, Princess Sarah of Brrisa, daughter of King Ricard and sister to Crown Prince Tobias, wished that someone beside her would have the apparent audacity to shuck societal opinions on etiquette and propriety. It was hard, sometimes, being the only who did.

Repressing a sigh, Sarah followed Uris, wondering with distaste and a touch of curiosity what it was her father wanted. He wished to discuss her soon-to-be suitors with her, no doubt, and inform her of who they were and which ones he favored. A part of her always marveled at the fact that Ricard had not lost patience with her already and thrown her into an arranged marriage. Perhaps her threats of doing all in her power to ruin him should he even _consider _arranging her a marriage had been taken to heart? A pretty smirk curled her lips.

She _had _been rather histrionic when delivering that particular declaration, she recalled.

**… … …**

Back in the castle, Sarah smoothed her hands down her skirt in a nervous gesture. She'd been forced to tidy her appearance before meeting with her father, and slip on the bejeweled golden circlet of her rank onto her head, but was at the moment standing before her father in his study, his brown eyes watchful and appraising.

He was always especially critical (as critical as someone could be about something they cared little for, so to say) of her when suitors were involved.

"Sarah," he greeted her, his averagely handsome features fixed into a small, uninterested smile. "You look lovely today; so much like your mother."

She stiffened slightly at the mention of the king's first wife, Belinda, but was otherwise composed. She also fought off the desire to give an unladylike snort of derision. If there was one thing that made Sarah a treasured pawn in her father's political games, one thing that made her one of his greatest assets, it would have been her supposed beauty. Waist length hair that fell arrow-straight around her shoulders and was the richest of dark browns but sometimes appeared as dark as obsidian shone lustrous and glossy and was soft to the touch. Skin the color of the fairest peaches mixed with cream was flawless and smooth, and a faint blush of pink colored was almost always present on her cheeks. She was neither very tall nor necessarily petite, but stood at a good place in the middle betwixt the two. Her figure, while having been too thin and not very curvaceous in her early years, had blossomed into full breasts, a tiny waist, dainty arms, and long, slim legs. Her face was in the shape of an oval, with a small but full mouth, large and luminous green eyes, and a small, pert nose.

And having a beautiful princess at his disposal would only work in King Ricard's favor, would it not?

"Thank you, my lord." Sarah said, giving him a graceful curtsy. She raised her eyes to meet his, wanting to just get the damned meeting over with. She didn't care for the look on his face; she had seen the expression before, and it had never meant anything good for her. "You wished to see me?" she hinted, slightly lifting her eyebrows in polite inquiry. Ricard nodded.

"I did, princess. I have something I wish to discuss with you." he leaned forward on his large wooden desk, clasping his hands in front of him. "It concerns the suitors we were expecting."

_Were? Do my ears deceive me, or did he speak of the louts in past tense?_ She thought excitedly, her heart happy for a moment, before she noticed that he still wore that same indescribable expression that never boded well for Sarah. She only just stopped herself from nervously fingering the material of her skirt or fiddling with the pearl hanging on her neck. It wouldn't do any good to show him how anxious she was.

Ricard smiled, a touch of bitterness in it. "I am sure you shall be glad to know that we are no longer expecting any of them here," the enmity of in his smile seeped into his voice. "Gods know you chase them off as soon as I can find them. And considering how many you have already rejected, that is harder than it sounds, I shall have you know."

Sarah's temper began to rise, but considering that this conversation was actually one of her favor, she thought it best to play nice...for the time being.

"I am sorry I am causing you such inconvenience, my lord. I am amazed indeed that you have not simply lost hope in ever finding me a husband." she said, her teeth only slightly gritted. Ricard smirked at his daughter; but could she even be called that? The only time he ever paid her any thought was when he was thinking of ways to use her to the advantage of his kingdom, preferably in the form of striking a lucrative alliance with a prosperous and influential kingdom by way of marriage.

After all, what else was a daughter good for? What other purpose could she serve?

_Never mind that Brrisa or any of the other kingdoms have objected to female rulers; royal blood is royal blood after all, and no doubt the other rulers and nobility would get some amusement at seeing me inherit the throne. I could only imagine what I would be called behind my back; Queen Shrew? Ice Queen? Little doubt the gossips would find something original to call me._

Ricard gave a short, barking laugh. "I sincerely doubt that you are sorry, princess. But that matters not; just rest assured that I will not be subjecting you to any new suitors for some time to come." he raised an eyebrow at her. "Does that not sound appealing to you?"

"It sounds very appealing, my lord. My humblest thanks." she said with a falsely bright smile and another curtsy, hiding the unease that sent her stomach rolling and disturbed her mind.

The aforementioned look had reappeared on Ricard's face again, and there was a certain look of..._satisfaction_...deep in his eyes that greatly disquieted Sarah.

While she would have normally been overjoyed at the prospect of not having to deal with another round of suitors for a long while, she could not help but feel that it meant Ricard had succeeded at something, something that would only cause problems for Sarah in the future.

And if it was enough to make Ricard smug, then it was probably going to cause a _very_ big problem for Sarah indeed.

The price of never seeing eye-to-eye with the man, she figured as he dismissed her with a gesture and she left the study, that sense of foreboding following her out of the room.

* * *

**Well there you are duckies, a nice not-so-little chapter for you. Seriously, it reached eleven pages on my word processor!**

**If you liked or even hated this chapter, feel free to fill out the comment card! (aka review the story.) Honestly; I don't write these for praise, I write these to garner feedback on my writing ability. Any and all thoughts are appreciated. :)**


	3. A Decent Conversationalist

**Disclaimer: I know I own nothing! Quit rubbing it in!**

**A/N: Okay, this chapter took much longer to write than I had originally planned. But hey, my laptop charger broke and it took me weeks to get a replacement, so some slack should be cut. And combine that with a lack of flow in the creative juices, and this was a hard-to-finish chap indeed. But as a treat, I have like six whole pages of nothing but Sarah/Jareth interaction! And we get a more in-depth look at an OC character! And the wicked stepmother/queen makes an appearance! Whoohoo! **

**And for the record, I'm going to try very hard to NOT take over a month to update again, m'kay? **

**Also, my sincerest thanks to the wonderful people who were kind enough to answer my earlier request for feedback. You guys rock! And as always, thank you so much to those who reviewed.**

**And fair warning, a good portion of this chapter is the product of insomnia, so forgive any grammatical errors or general typos, and please bring them to my attention so I can correct them. They were all unintentional and went unnoticed by the poor, sleepy, author...cuz I really do know the rules of grammar, honest! **

**Well, on with the show!**

* * *

Jareth was silently sitting on a branch of the tree the human—_Sarah_—seemed to favor, waiting for her to arrive. Would she come? Would she, a Brrisian lady, heed a demon of questionable background and ambiguous intent? He allowed his lips to twitch into a small smile; he was quite curious to find out.

One knee was drawn up towards his chest, and the other dangled in the air. He had an arm propped at the elbow on his knee while he leaned the other on the branch he was on. He was in no danger of falling off, despite the precarious perch, and could easily tell if anyone was approaching.

No, what was truly dangerous was the fact that he was so close to a human castle. In a demon-prejudiced kingdom no less! And why was he there?

Because he had been intrigued by a mortal lady with recusant opinions and a sharp wit, and she provided some relief from his tedious daily routine. Besides, it wasn't as if he was in danger of being caught by the castle guards (for they did not patrol here) and he trusted the girl (to a degree) to not send them after him. And if she tried to harm him herself, which he also doubted, then he could easily overpower her.

But he didn't really want to have to kill her, even if it came down to that. He enjoyed conversing her, was amused by her contained answers which were just-shy of being rude. If she had been anything else but a lady, she would not have been so careful in watching he tongue when she spoke to him. Then again, had she been a peasant, she also might not have had to the courage to speak as freely as she had.

He glanced at the position of the sun through the tree's thick foliage, wondering when, and if, the girl would come. Mornings were usually his personal time, being as he had the ability to decide when he rose and when he set to work. Today he had risen earlier than usual in order to arrive in Brrisa at sunrise; he had no idea as to what hour Sarah would arrive at, and he did not want to risk missing her.

Jareth glanced again at the sun; it was getting closer to afternoon than it was to morning. Had she not been able to come? Or, like he suspected, was she simply defying him?

Ah well; he would wait until noon, at least...

**… … …**

"Now, princess, if I were to come at you, like so, what would you do?" Uris asked her, feigning an attack with a dagger, as if he were about to shove the knife to the hilt in her belly. Sarah just refrained from rolling her eyes; she knew the answer Uris wanted her to give, knew what he wanted her first instinct to be, but she knew that if she complied and played his game in reality she would die. Also, when would an attacker give her fair warning before trying to killer her? Or move so slowly, for that matter.

Completely defeated the purpose, in her opinion.

"I would twist, like this," she said, jerking to the left, her hips leading her body, the knife passing by her and striking nothing but air. "and would then do this." she said, pretending to plunge her dagger into the juncture of his wrist and hand. "Thus rendering you incapable to continue to fight, as you would be too preoccupied with bleeding to death to make any further attempts on my life."

Sighing, the guard resumed a normal stance and stared at her, pity and disappointment in his gaze. It almost, _almost_, made her hackles rise, but she calmed herself down by reminding herself that Uris well and truly meant no harm with his opinions, no matter how insulting she found them.

"Princess, you were supposed to evade the attack and run for safety. Preferably screaming for help as you did so. _Not_ form a counter-attack and..._kill _your attacker."

She felt a headache coming on, but resisted pressing a hand to her aching temple. Clenching her teeth was not helping the pain, either. _And when there is no safety for me to run to, then what shall I do, Uris? Die while waiting to be rescued? Allow myself to be ravaged because there is no knight to save me? Let myself be killed because I cannot save myself? Because you _refuse_ to teach me how to safe myself?_

"Uris, you are not always by my side, keeping me safe. It is Toby you are meant to protect, not me." she glanced at the golden child, who was watching men spar while sitting with his nurse on a blanket. Two guards stood behind them, stoically vigil. Noticing his sister, Toby waved happily and grinned; she returned the gesture, her heart melting just a little. How anyone could think she would hold a grudge against such a sweet child was entirely beyond her. She lowered her voice, looking back to the guard. "I have no protector but myself; allow me to at least be capable of defending my own life rather than making me depend upon another who might never arrive."

She saw him argue with himself in his mind, and hoped that the army that was sympathetic to her cause won this skirmish; she knew better than to hope she would win the war. His expression wavered, and for a moment she thought victory was in sight, but he shook his head after looking at the dagger her slim, delicate hand still held.

"No, princess. It would not be proper to teach you to...take life. You are safe on the castle grounds and are assigned escorts whenever you leave them; to teach you more than what you have already learned would be wrong and redundant. And once you are married..." he hesitated finishing his thought, knowing as well as anyone how quickly talk of marriage could bring out Sarah's ire, but continued despite the serious risk of repercussions. "Protecting you shall be your husband's duty as well as the duty of those who serve him; to train you in self-protection would imply that he is incapable of defending you himself and would be a very grave insult. So the answer is no, princess. I will only continue go over what I have already taught you in our past lessons."

Seeing her disappointment, but either choosing to ignore or just not noticing her barely-controlled anger, he put a hand on her shoulder and gave it what was meant as a comforting squeeze. However, the patronizing undertones of the gesture ruined any consolation she could have gotten from it.

Her mouth practically ached with the urge to flay him alive, to point out to him in the iciest way possible how thick-headed and nonsensical he was being, how actually teaching her to defend herself would be the safer option instead of keeping her weak and defenseless. But she didn't. What would the point of have been? Uris had, along with every other man, had proven incapable of understanding the simple concept. Teach her to defend herself, and the men wouldn't have to. Was that _really_ so difficult to comprehend? Giving him a short nod and a tight-lipped smile, Sarah made her way to the castle entrance.

They had been in the small, enclosed courtyard that acted as the men's training area, and had been "training" since she had finished her breakfast earlier that morning. Suitably attired for the occasion, she was wearing a pair of white leggings, short, flat-heeled boots made of leather, and a long-sleeved tunic the color of a deer's hide. The tunic was snugly belted at the waist with a simple strip of leather, and also held her dagger's sheath. Irena had nearly swooned from the scandal of her stepdaughter, a woman, _a princess,_ dressing in men's clothes, and had ranted against the idea for ages. Uris had eventually convinced both Irena and Ricard that it would be necessary for Sarah to dress like that, as a rich and burdensome gown would only get in the way while training. So under the condition that Sarah _swear_ to Ricard to not embarrass him or ruin her reputation in _any way_, he commissioned the royal seamstress to sew her the necessary garments.

She enjoyed the freedom that came from not being burdened by the heavy skirts and the constricting stays of gowns, but disliked the attention she garnered when wearing such an outfit. While walking back to her room to change, she caught men's gazes on her several times before they quickly turned away in embarrassment. Sarah quickened her pace; she never did understand the allure of seeing her dressed in male clothing. Granted, the leggings hugged and the tunic clung, but all in all she thought she would look more charming in a gown.

While walking down a corridor, much to her despair she found Irena, conversing with a servant about something or other. As if sensing her presence, the queen turned in Sarah's direction. Her eyes widened fractionally at the sight of her, and Sarah could practically _feel_ the woman's distaste it was showing so plainly.

"Princess."

"My queen?" Sarah answered, just a bit nervous. While Ricard didn't give a damn about what she did so long as it didn't reflect badly on him, Irena was the one who seemed set out to make Sarah's life miserable. But what really bothered her was the fact that her stepmother really _did_ have the power to make her suffer, and could exercise it at anytime.

"Did I or did I not tell you that you were to only wear those _vestures_" her mouth delicately sneered over the pretentious word, ruining the lovely effect the meticulously applied lip-paint had given her mouth. If she had been a lesser girl, Sarah would have flinched from the queen's cutting, tone. "when you were training with Uris? Honestly; you must be the only princess alive to completely lack any sense of decorum whatsoever. Your father would never be able to find you a husband if anyone from court saw you dressed like that. Not that he has been very successful in that endeavor anyway, considering how many suitors you have already scared off. Little wonder, with your atrocious manners." the queen sighed heavily, as if Sarah were nothing but a large and heavy cross to bear. "Had you been my daughter, you would have turned out differently. Oh well; I suppose the blame cannot be laid entirely at your feet. Your mother and lack of discipline you received before I arrived played a part in it, I fear."

Sarah was normally able to take Irena's belittling and devastating insults with little more than a whimper and then would go off to lick her wounds. But she was already upset over her conversation with Uris, and had gotten very little sleep the night before as she had stayed awake arguing with herself on the merits of heeding the demon—_Jareth's—_request. She closed her eyes, her blood boiling and her hand itching to strike the queen again and again until that pitying look left her features. That comment about her upbringing had stung, and tears absurdly began to form in her eyes, but she would never give her stepmother the satisfaction of knowing that her words had cut her defenses to ribbon. Her eyes flashing open, she tried to muster her resolve and leveled a look at the queen.

"Yes, your majesty. Had I been your daughter, I dare say I would have quite different indeed." her tone was clipped and brusque, so much so that you would have had to listen closely to hear the wavering tremor that was the only indication, besides her teary eyes, that she was hurting. Ignoring the sickeningly compassionate expression on the servant's face, Sarah nodded to her stepmother, her eyes on the ground and away from the woman. "Now if you shall excuse me, I have to change. I am going out riding; I will not be here for lunch."

Before she could properly be dismissed, she stalked down the corridor, her strides long and quick as her vision became slightly blurred. Swallowing around the lump forming in her throat, she eventually arrived at her rooms, flinging the door shut behind her. A smirk lifted one corner of her mouth as she listened to the heavy door close with a loud _bang._

Standing like a statue in her room, her hands stiffly clenched at her sides, she ignored the feeling of her nails biting into her palms as she calmed herself down.

_Irena has always insulted me; her words were nothing new. Getting angry is pointless. But if only she had left Mama out of it!_ The room began to swim again as tears formed, but she was able to blink them away. There weren't too many memories of Belinda happy and healthy, as she had almost always been either been weak with child or recuperating from one of the many stillbirths and miscarriages she had suffered through. But when she had been able, she had coddled and played with her beloved little daughter.

_Pregnancies and births that she wouldn't have had to go through had you been a boy,_ her mind whispered to her ruefully, but Sarah shook her head to clear her melancholy thoughts. She still would have taken her mother alive over her being dead, but the pain that had come from her death had dissipated over the years, for the most part. Besides; had Belinda never died, Ricard would never have remarried, and Toby would never have been born. A pang went through her at the thought of never playing with the giggling child, never reading him stories or seeing his sunny smile.

"Damn Irena; judging a woman she never even knew." she whispered, and a small spark of an idea entered her mind. Eying the gown that had been thoughtfully laid out for her on her bed to change into once she returned from training, a lovely and devilish smile curled her lips at the thought of not switching her scandalous attire for the pretty dress.

Quickly brushing out her hair, the brown-black tresses making it obvious, along with her feminine curves and pretty face, that she was a woman, Sarah smiled at the picture she painted.

A princess dressed in men's attire leaving her castle unescorted, and riding a horse as any man would.

Would she offend people?

Yes.

Would it tarnish her reputation a bit?

Likely.

Would it anger Ricard and Irena?

Indubitably.

But would it make her smile to see their outrage?

_Yes_.

Also, she had come to the decision after a lengthy dispute with herself before bed that she _would_ go see Jareth. Not because she had been ordered, for her defiant nature almost never allowed her to heed commands, but to satisfy her own curiosity. And perhaps a small part of her was a little nervous and giddy about seeing him again, but she refused to let herself get carried away with whimsical notions. If he already thought her peculiar, what would he say when she met him wearing such an outfit? A giggle bubbled past her lips, and she happily trotted out of her room, foregoing the path she had just come from in favor of a less-traveled servant's exit that would take her to the stables.

She didn't pass many people on her way there, but the few she did pass gaped in shock and embarrassment, and would sneak glances at her after being caught staring.

A smile was gracing her face she nearly skipped into the stable and to Petal's stall, cheerily greeting the horse as she brushed and saddled the animal. Once that task was done, she led her out of the stall and into the open where she easily mounted Petal. Only, she didn't sit in the saddle as a lady, as a woman, would. No; she sat with her legs on opposite sides of the animal, straddling it as any man would. Sarah smiled slightly; it was much more comfortable to ride this way than the way she normally rode.

By the time she arrived at the river, she was half-excited and half-scared of meeting Jareth. Would he even come? She saw no one around as she slowly swung off Petal and led her to the river, allowing the horse to drink before tying her to the tree. Glancing around, Sarah curled up beside the base of the tree, leaning back against it in a way that would have earned her a stern glare or two from Irena.

Servants had probably already reported to Irena what Sarah had done, and she would no doubt be summoned by her stepmother for a long, scathing lecture when upon returning to the castle, but she didn't care. All that could happen was that she would be insulted and receive punishment by being denied supper or something of the like. Nothing she hadn't been through before.

Closing her eyes, she opened them again after feeling a strange little gust of wind and hearing a small _thump._ Turning her head slowly, she gasped loudly and shrilly, and jolted as a small thrill shot through her limbs when she saw the fae demon crouching _very_ close to her. He smirked, his eyes widening as she looked her over once, and then for a second time. She smiled and relaxed once again.

"Hello Jareth. Where did you come from?" she asked, tilting her head and frowning up at the tree, noting a sturdy branch almost directly above where he was crouched. "You weren't hiding in the tree were you?"

"I prefer to think of it as waiting," he said almost absently, still eying her clothing. "Not that you don't look lovely, but what in the seven hells are you wearing?"

Sarah smiled at him, choosing to ignore his coarse language, pleased to see that yes, he was shocked, but he was also amused as well.

"I had defense training after breakfast; this is what I wear for it."

"They let a lady such as yourself dress in men's clothing? Where others can see?" he raised an eyebrow, smirk turning lascivious as his gaze drifted down her body. "Not that I am complaining, dear lady Sarah. Those garments happen to look quite charming on you." he frowned suddenly before she could deliver a stinging retort, his strange eyes meeting her green ones. "Although from what you said of your family, I find it hard to believe you are allowed to leave your home like this, considering you are not training."

Sarah smiled again, her eyes alight with mischief. "Usually I have to change into a gown the moment I am finished training; but today I was upset and decided to irritate the dear—" she bit her tongue, just barely stopping herself from saying her stepmother's title. "ah, that is to say, the dear woman I have the pleasure of calling stepmother. She and I had a disagreement and I wasn't feeling magnanimous."

Jareth moved positions, leaning against the tree as she did but leaving several inches between them, his long legs stretched out before him while her own were curled up beside her body. He looked so elegant and languid, she was just a bit jealous. No human could ever appear so graceful without trying.

His blonde head was facing her, and he drew a knew up and rested a limp wrist on it as he studied her, lips twitching.

"You didn't strike me as the vengeful sort, but I can't say I'm displeased to know that you are. The magnanimous sort can get so _boring_ at times."

She shook her head, sighing wearily. She brushed her fingers over the grass beneath her just to keep her hands busy. "I'm not really vengeful, not usually. I was just...angry over something, and her criticism did not help matters." Sarah smiled as she looked at him, a little sheepish. "You know, I almost didn't come here today."

Jareth smiled at that, partially revealing what she knew were inhumanely sharp teeth. "Truthfully, I didn't know whether you would come or not. I figured if you didn't it would be because of fear of me and what seems to be a naturally defiant nature. If you _did_ come, I thought it would be out of curiosity and the inclination to deviate from social norms." he raised a brow that somehow managed not to mock, but to simply express his query. "So was I right?" he asked, not sounding as if he really cared about the answer.

She nodded. "Partially. When I first decided to come, it was simply to assuage my own curiosity and assert that I wasn't afraid. What actually spurred me into action this morning was the need to leave the castle and desire to speak with someone who wouldn't curl their lip at my attire. The fact that leaving dressed so indecently would anger my parents played a part in it as well."

"Hm. So you were hoping I would be amused at your...outfit?" Jareth said, his head lolling back as he lazily glanced at her.

"Not amused, per say...I just didn't want you to react with the contempt and cries of outrage I usually receive. You seemed different from the people I am accustomed to, and I was hoping to not be proven wrong on the matter of your character." she confessed, faintly embarrassed. She had just wanted one person, _one,_ fae demon or not, who didn't think she was either an immoral shrew, an ice princess, or an unscrupulous hoyden. She wanted someone to see her for what she was and not curl their lip in derision and cast a swift and harsh judgment. And knowing that the fae were by nature...somehow cleverly feckless, she had thought it safe to assume he would be a bit more open to her eccentricities.

Comprehension overcame the absentmindedly amused boredom on his features. "Ah. You did not want me to be like the insipid, censorious fools you deal with daily? I can understand that. One such as yourself must not be thought to highly of, what with your wit and apparent disregard for conventional values."

Sarah nodded, a wry smirk on her lips. "It is only my stature that keeps the truly biting tongues at bay, sometimes."

Brows winged up in surprise, but she sensed no mockery in his expression. "In my dealings, humans only hold their tongues when they respect or fear someone; which is it with you?"

Laughing slightly, she shook her head and readjusted herself, finding that she had grown uncomfortable in the position she had been holding. "Neither. They couldn't care less for me; but my father is...influential, and wealthy, and dislikes to have his children disrespected. It would weaken his position if he allowed anyone to say what they pleased about me, so he discourages it." now she smiled, partly happy and partly bitter. "Besides. I might not be his precious heir, but that does not mean he has forsaken me. For the right bride price, any man could have me as wife, and with it he could access the connections that would come with such a union."

A salacious smile crept onto Jareth's face, and his lids lowered on his eyes. "Hm...I can't imagine it would take much to convince a man to take a lovely bit such as yourself for wife. And coming from a powerful family, that makes you even more appealing. So how is it you aren't married yet?"

Confused, Sarah stared at him, a small crease forming between her brows. "Is it so hard to guess? I hardly have the manners of a lady, Jareth, and the suitors my father chose were hardly men I could stand to be civil to, much less marry."

Jareth frowned back at her. "Surely any faults you have would appear trivial to a suitor in the face of your prospects?"

Recalling a few of the more memorable meetings with her past suitors, a grin stretched her lips and showed her pretty white teeth. "Do not be too certain of that. Once my passions have been taken with an endeavor, I refuse to allow myself to be defeated by whatever obstacle is in my way. In this particular instance, theses are the circumstances; I have no desire to marry despite it being the 'proper' thing to do, but my family does. My dowry is well worth my bride price, and I am apparently physically appealing." Her mouth made a ruefully distasteful face before continuing. "With this said, I have had dozens of suitors petition for my hand, with many coming close to securing a betrothal." Sarah giggled girlishly, sounding like one of the tittering court ladies. "Until they meet me, that is. I am civil yet cold with them in the presence of my family so as to not be reproached, but once we are alone I am, I must admit, histrionically shrewish."

Jareth smiled, eyes twinkling with mirth. "You don't strike me as the dramatic type."

The grin she gave him in return could only be described as sly. "No? Well even I must admit that I was nearly sent into a hysteric fit every time I was in the company of a suer. I might have even resorted to throwing things and screaming..."

Jareth's head tilted back in laughter. "Frighten them all away, did you?"

"Of course. Who would take a harpy for wife?" Curiosity overcame her for a second, and she looked to the demon. "And you, Jareth? Have you taken a wife?"

Snorting, he shook his blonde head. "Certainly not." his eyes lit up mischievously, and his lips curled up flirtatiously. He began to lean towards her, his face coming closer with each word spoken."Why, my lady? Are you looking to me to save you from your tedious, repressive life? Do you see me as some wondrous creature preparing to steal you away to some wild, devil-may-care kingdom far away from here and make you mine?" he leaned in closer, "Or do—"

"No, Jareth, I do not see you as any of those things." Sarah interrupted in a non-amused voice, deciding it would probably be best to not let him go any farther. "I was only asking a question." About to ask another question, she frowned when she realized that she had actually been having a very nice conversation with a _fae demon_ who had yet to threaten or frighten her.

_That is strange; even when I met him yesterday he was harsh in his speech and menacing. Now he is actually quite...tame. Almost human, if I were to ignore appearance and lack of regard for decency. Then again, I am human and I posses the latter trait myself. How peculiar._

"Jareth," she said, earning his attention once again, for his gaze had drifted. "You are acting quite different from how you have been in our last meetings. Why? Or did you not notice?"

Shrugging one shoulder with the ethereal elegance that was exclusive to the fae, he turned his attention away from her to study the river. So very, very different from the ever-vigil demon she had encountered before. Did he now perhaps...trust her?

"I have come to the conclusion that I do not need to be overly guarded with you, for I do not think that you are inclined to harm what I believe to be the only decent conversationalist you know." his voice was bored, as if he was reciting a speech he found terribly dull. He glanced back at her, his mouth curled into the cruel, sinister smirk she had come to associate with him and his voice sweet like poisoned honey. "Besides my dear, precious lady. If you did try to harm me, I could kill you with a few flicks of my wrists."

He once again leaned closer, but thankfully kept two inches between their faces. Sarah's mouth went dry and her pulse may have quickened, but she thought that she remained rather calm at their sudden proximity.

"Interesting." she said calmly, the only acknowledgment she planned to give his frightening declaration. By gods, how strong _were_ the fae? "And yes, as you so eloquently said, I am not anxious to hurt a man...er, _demon,"_ she corrected when she saw his expression, "whom I owe my life to."

She smiled, although she knew the gesture was probably a bit tremulous. "Beside, you were right. You _are_ the only decent conversationalist I know."

He smirked again, but this time it was with mirth, not menace. "Hm." was all he said as he moved away, leaning back against the tree.

Biting her lip, Sarah wondered about his comment. Could he truly do as he said? What was the extent of his demon prowess? "Jareth..." she began tentatively, teeth scraping at her lower lip. Irena would have shrieked at yet another of Sarah's uncouth habits, but Sarah was free to do as she pleased with the queen nowhere in sight.

"Yes?" the demon asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "What is it, my lady?"

"I was...wondering..." she gnawed on her lip as she stared at him. "Well, just what _can_ you do? As a demon, I mean."

Comprehension lit up his strange eyes. "Ah," he said, "you want to know about my powers?"

"If you wouldn't mind telling me, I should like to know." she said, "I know very little of demons in general, and less of the fae."

Pursing his thin lips, Jareth's jaw rotated as he thought. "Well," he said slowly, "I was not jesting when I said a few flicks of my wrist could kill you, whether I was using magic or not."

"How so?" she asked, shifting so that she was sitting up and facing him, her legs folded beneath her with her backside resting on them.

"Were I to strike you," Jareth began, "I could very well place enough force behind it to kill you, if I so chose. What with you humans being such fragile creatures and such. And were I to employ enough magic with the intent to kill, there are numerous ways I could so. Some of which are rather gruesome." he added, correctly assuming that her next question would pertain to details of such killings.

"So you are very powerful, in the physical sense?" she said, wanting to be positive she understood.

Jareth nodded. "I have the strength of about five human warriors, and likely double their stamina."

Her eyes widened, but she processed that and moved on. _Eh gods; __**five warriors?**_ "And you can use...magic...to kill?" she tilted her head like a feline. "Can you only use magic for defensive purposes?"

Now he shook his head, his face momentarily covered by the longer strands of his hair. "No, it can be used for all purposes and in many different forms." Lifting one arm so that it was bent at the elbow and his hand pointed towards the sky, he began to move his arm sinuously, reminding Sarah briefly of a viper darting through tall grass. She intently watched his ministrations, gasping loudly when clear, seemingly glass orb was now being rolled in his hand. Over the tips of his fingers, from the back of his to his wrist, over his fingertips again, and traveling to and back from the palm of his hand. Over, and over, and over, all the while his arm undulating like an ocean surface's. He spoke casually as he continued, eyes on her shocked face.

"I prefer to use crystals such as these for a manifestation of my magic." he said, and just as suddenly as he had begun...doing whatever he called those movements...he stopped, the orb resting in his palm as he held it out to her. Flicking her eyes to his face, silently asking for permission, Jareth motioned with his chin towards the crystal. "Go on, my lady. It will not bite."

Very, very carefully, Sarah grasped the strange sphere in her hand, turning it over to study it from all angles. "What purpose can it serve?" she asked, not looking at him, too absorbed in inspecting the crystal.

"It can be manipulated or transformed, if I had need of something, or it could show me a sight I wished to see." he grinned. "Would you care for a demonstration?"

Sarah smiled back, but shook her head, handing him back the crystal. "No, thank you. I've seen enough magic for today." she shook her head, still trying to believe that he had created something from thin air. "Your earlier demonstration was shocking enough."

Jareth glanced at the offered crystal, causing Sarah to do so as well, and she flinched upon finding it gone, her hand empty. "H-how?" she speechlessly looked to him, and he shrugged contentedly.

"Fae, my dearest lady. The only answer I can provide is that I am fae." he smiled at her, showing teeth. Or, at least, she chose to think of it as a smile. "Might I ask a question in trade?"

She nodded. "Of course."

"Why did you not scream upon finding a demon to be your savior? It is certainly what anyone in their right mind would have done, and with good cause." Again, his cruel, sharp smile appeared. "We fae have a...reputation, do we not?"

Sarah barely held back a shiver. Yes, the fae demons most certainly _did_ have a reputation, and not a flattering one at that. Thinking of the poor, horned Lady Aria, she swallowed nervously. "Indeed you do, Jareth." she said, and barely stopped herself from picturing how _she_ would look with horns. "I am even acquainted with a lady who was enchanted by one of your kind."

Jareth cocked his head, uneven blue eyes a fraction wider than normal. "Oh? And in what way was the lady enchanted?"

Her smile was rueful as she stared at him. "She was given horns for supposedly rejecting a demon's advances."

"Ah." His eyes studied her shrewdly, his head still sitting at an angle. "You would look most strange with horns, precious. Pointed teeth and ears and would suit you much better, I think."

Frozen and her heart thudding, Sarah hoped with everything she had that he was not serious. Seeing his lips twitch, she _thought_ he was only jesting, but surreptitiously ran her tongue over and under her teeth just to be sure. Inherently knowing what she was doing, Jareth grinned and snickered maliciously.

"I didn't change your ears, either, in case you were worried. As I said at our first encounter, I do not enjoy torturing mortal girls for amusement."

"But you have no qualms with frightening them nearly to death?" she asked in annoyance, irritated more with herself than with him. Sighing, she risked a glance at the sun, wondering how much longer she would be able to stay before a guard was sent to fetch her. "I will not be able to stay much longer," she stated, glancing back at him. "I have a previous engagement to prepare for. Although devil take it I cannot remember what it is." she muttered, scowling at the grass. A banquet? Perhaps. Or was it a ball? Now matter; it still meant that she would have to act the princess for hours on end.

Jareth frowned, looking oddly petulant despite his air of danger. "Truly?" glancing at the sun himself, he grimaced. "Damn. Be it that late already?" he turned back to her, and mimicked her position of resting on her knees, bringing them closer.

"I wish to see you again." he stated, his voice arrogant with authority. Sarah imperiously sneered at him. Did all men think it right to order a woman about? Would it have been so bloody hard to _ask_ to see her again? Once again she found herself thinking that he _must_ be nobility of some sort, for who else would taken that tone with a lady? Or was it just his disdain for mortals that afforded him that impudence?

"Oh do you now?" She said, using her most disparaging voice and crossing her arms as defiance danced in her jade eyes. "Well that is a shame, as I know I will be unable to leave the castle on the morrow, and I see no possible way for me to inform you of a possible opportunity for a rendezvous. Indeed, 'tis simply impossible." she added primly and gave an airy wave of her hand, lightening her voice. "So you must forgive me Jareth, but I fail to see how we can meet again."

Instead of getting angry with her antics, or even look as though he were losing patience, he simply stared at her as though she were being incredibly slow. "My dearest Lady Sarah," he drawled lazily, "Do you truly think I, _a demon,_ could be thwarted by such a trivial thing?" he snorted, and with a roll of his eyes and hand, offered her another crystal seemingly plucked from the air. She looked from the proffered orb to him and back again.

"What, pray tell, am I to do with that?"

"Use it to summon me, of course." he retorted. "Hold it in you hand whenever you are free to see me, and simply say my name. The crystal shall carry out the summoning and I will come to you forthwith."

He had aroused her curiosity now, but not enough to entirely banish her dubiety. "Not that I doubt you, but however is it supposed to accomplish that? I can not even _use_ magic." she pointed out.

"You don't have to." he said simply, and seeing her skepticism, heaved a great sigh of exasperation. "Trust me. It shall work."

Thoughtfully, she took the clear crystal orb from him, looking it over before tucking it into the small pouch that was hanging from her sword belt. The look she gave him could only be described as _saucy._

"What has you so convinced that I am willing to even attempt using that thing? For all your knowledge, I could only be taking it to appease you and have no desire to see you again." she was grinning as she spoke, and Jareth chuckled.

"And deprive yourself of my company? I think not." Glancing again at the sun's placement in the sky, Jareth sighed and looked back to her. "I need to return before I am missed."

Though she wondered just who exactly would be missing Jareth, she stopped herself from asking. If she was going to keep secrets, than he was entitled to keep his. Nodding, she stood, stretching once she was on her feet. Walking to Petal, she looked over her shoulder to the demon after untying the horse's reins.

"Goodbye, Jareth." she said with a single nod, and he gave her a flourish bow from the waist. Although, the mocking sheen in his eyes and the sarcastic set of his eyebrows spoiled it in her opinion.

"Farewell precious."

He spoke as she was climbing onto Petal, causing her to go still while in the air. Puzzled, she stared at him.

"Why on earth do you keep calling me that? And don't call me 'my lady', either. My name is Sarah; I would prefer you use it." her smile was small and mirthless. "Hardly anyone does." Mounting Petal, she sent the horse into a quick trot, and resigned herself to whatever Irena and Ricard had in mind for her after her impertinent display.

**… … …**

Jareth watched the girl ride off at a faster pace than usual, a genuine, if a bit miffed, smile on his lips. So she wanted to be called by her name? Perhaps his terms of endearments and mocking use of her title had bothered her? Than again, he himself was hardly called by his own name, so he could understand the need to hear it spoken by _someone,_ without a title attached to it.

However had she managed to convince her family to allow her to wear the garments she had arrived in? Granted, not an eyelash would have been bat in demon society, but she was _human._ He shook his head, quietly laughing. He wasn't sure what was prompting him to coerce her into seeing him again, why he wanted her company, but he was sure it had to do with the all-encompassing dullness that had been dominating his life recently. The lady—_Sarah_—was an amusement that Jareth sorely needed now, and certainly was _not_ going to turn away.

She seemed to have a bit of the fae in her, he mused, what with that quick wit and ethereal beauty. Sarah was of course entirely and absolutely human, but she was as close to a fae in nature as a human could get, considering her fiery spirit. It was a rare trait in mortals, and one that he had always found incredibly charming.

Knowing that it would be a wise decision to leave Brrisa now that his visit was over, Jareth decided to forgo running back to demon territory in favor of another, more magical approach...

In the span of time it took to blink, he was gone, and in his place by the tree only sparkling specks of dust indicated that he had been there...

Safely home and in his chambers, he sighed in appreciation at the thought of _not_ having to run home. Sometimes he truly, truly enjoyed being a demon.

* * *

**So, what'cha think? Feel free to tell me your opinions. Also, are my chapters too long? Would you prefer shorter ones? Let me know.**

**But who here (besides me) wanted to punch Uris after he gave Sarah that little speech about why he wouldn't further her teachings in self-defense? Total props to Sarah for exercising self-control, right?**

**And I hate to ask this but being as I'm greedy, please review? As much as I enjoy writing, reviews still make me smile. XD**** And they maybe possibly speed up the writing process (ahem, cough cough...)**


	4. A Malapropos Summoning

**Disclaimer: I know that I don't own it! Why do you keep making me repeat it? You're mean! *Sobs***

**A/N: Okay, um, hi, do y'all 'member when I said that I would try to post this chapter in less time than it took me to post the last one? You do? Well, apparently I was lying like a dog when I said that, and for that I AM SO INCREDIBLY SORRY!**

**Really, I am sorry, because here you amazing, wondrous people are, giving a story with three chapters (yeah now it has four but it didn't before so shut it) 83 reviews and 105 followers! and here I am taking 102 days to update! I mean, I sorta suck when you think about it. Seriously, I've read fanfics that have three times as many chapters than "A Princess and a Demon" has, that don't have that many reviews or followers. And there hasn't been a bad review yet! I want to shower you all with puppies and cupcakes and glitter, your response has been so great. But being as I can't do that, I'm just gonna work my bum off to get you next chapter within the next three weeks, alright?**

**Also, an incredibly huge and heartfelt thanks to the awesome-sauce Kaytori, who just agreed to be my beta for the non-altruistic (kidding, just kidding!) purpose of getting a sneak peak at the chapters. **

**Well enough of my blathering, enjoy!**

* * *

_If I am forced to converse with even **one** more priggish knave parading about as a lord, I do believe I shall sheath a sword into my belly._ Sarah thought ferociously, her face a belying mask of tranquility. A smirk that would have made Jareth proud was fighting to overtake her lips as a vision of such an act was painted in her mind. Her running to the nearest of weapons lining the walls of Duke Kolen's great hall, jerking it free from its home, and impaling herself upon it while the other guests watched with theatrical horror._ A pity the gown would be ruined, though. Irena had it fashioned for this just occasion._

Said garment was a particular shade of lilac that Sarah thought garish but caused the other ladies to covet, and had long bell sleeves that fell to her knuckles with decorative bands of beaded stitching on the elbows. The skirt was heavy and voluminous, and a belt of gold braid rested on her hips, the ties of which were left to dangle. To finish it, a gold and silver coronet with ivy detailing sat proudly upon her head, and a fat amethyst hung from a short chain at her throat.

Needless to say, Sarah had been given little choice in tonight's outfit.

Fighting off a sigh as she saw yet _another_ young noble coming towards her, probably to attempt to ask her to dance or strike up dull conversation with her, she was abruptly being embraced by a petite, delicately built young woman with chestnut hair caught up in heavy plaits which sat in a heavy knot on her nape, peach skin that possessed a light spray of golden-brown freckles on the cheeks and nose, an obstinate chin, and childish eyes the same color as her hair.

_Ealorna._ Sarah thought, eyes closing. _I should have known she would be here._

"Oh, Princess Sarah! How _wonderful_ to see you!" Lady Ealorna of Ollewyn, a small region of Brrisa that the young woman's affluent father Count Astor oversaw, said gaily and airily. Sarah was tempted to cock a brow in inquisition at her. Loquacious and peremptory were words Sarah had no difficulty applying to the woman, and this supercilious and insipid act was definitely belying her true nature. "I had _so_ hoped you would be here! I have not seen you for two months! Come, we _must_ speak!"

Somehow succeeding in dragging the taller girl and still managing to look sweet and delicate and elegant whilst she did it, Ealorna pulled Sarah to the outer edges of the large hall and near one of the numerous alcoves lining the grand stone and marble hall. Nicely hidden from many prying eyes, Ealorna's face lost the vapid smile it had been wearing and was replaced by an honest look of joy.

"Hello Sarah," she said with a grin, her eyes sparkling. "My apologies about that; I thought it would convince the lordling not to bother us. But really, it _has_ been some time since I last saw you. How are you? I haven't heard much concerning the unattainable Brrisian princess, and usually the gossips love tittering about you. So there can't be much news to share, can there?" The lady fidgeted in place, her teeth catching hold of her bottom lip. Sarah fought a smile; her long-time friend was obviously aching to tell her something, and was probably struggling to not blurt it out. She felt her lips twitch at the thought of Ealorna's reaction to Sarah sharing the newest development in her life.

_Well my dearest Ealorna, I **do** have news. Just days ago I was attacked by a demon beast, and was rescued from certain death by **another **demon! A fae no less, who I now can't help but think about every five minutes and who understands me better than even you do. I've secretly been riding out to meet him since that day, something which can get me hung or beheaded as we're both aware, and am also in possession of a strange little bit of crystal that Jareth, the demon, **swears** can summon him to my presence through magical means._

Oh yes; that disclosure would go over splendidly with Ealorna.

"No Lorna; nothing of import has happened to this particular princess." she said. Wouldn't Jareth be irked to know he had been labeled as unimportant? "But I don't think the same can be said for you. Now, tell me. What's happened?"

"I'm betrothed!" Ealorna blurted, lifting her hand to display the thick, twisting silver band on her thumb, the only finger the ring could fit on if Sarah guessed right, "Sir Egard, one of the knights back home, has been trying to attain my hand for some time. Papa finally acquiesced a fortnight ago to haggle over my bride price and discuss what my dowry entailed. The covenants were drawn three days ago, and then it was announced." A half-playful but still reproachful pout took over Ealorna's expression. "Honestly, with all the fuss Papa made over it, I'm surprised you didn't hear of it before tonight."

Betrothed? As in promised to marry? Sarah grimaced, and grasped for something to say that wouldn't upset or insult her obviously pleased friend. She knew—_knew—_that Lorna's opinion had not been taken into consideration when the agreement had been made, and while she might be accordant with the match, Sarah knew that it wouldn't have mattered if she hadn't been.

Ealorna, of course, had the ability to read Sarah better than the average vapid court noble, and her giddy expression turned to one of snapping eyes and tight lips pressed into an angry white line. Oh dear...

"There is no need for that expression, Sarah. I am incredibly happy with my betrothal to Egard. He is kind and attentive, and handsome and close to me in age, and has agreed to allow me many liberties once we are wed."

She fought off a derisive snort. He _allowed_ her certain freedoms, did he? Like a master allowed his dog to sleep at the foot of his bed or in front of the hearth on a rug, or a doting parent allowed their child a few sweets before supper. Ealorna was nineteen, two years older than Sarah, and she was being given the same restrictions placed upon children and animals. Didn't she _care_ about that? Did it not _bother_ her that she would have been wed to the knight with or without her consent? Whether or not he was the kind and handsome youth she declared him to be or a withered and gray man who cared naught for her? How could she let others control her in such a way?

"I'm glad you're pleased." Sarah said, almost so serene that anyone but those who knew Sarah's mind, knew her opinions, would have thought she was actually sincere. Not that she wanted her friend to be miserable, but she didn't see how Ealorna could be happy about losing her freedom to something so constricting as marriage.

"Yes, I'm sure you are." Ealorna snapped, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and glaring at Sarah. "Just as I'm sure that you also think I'm being foolish and manipulable and am wondering why in the seven hells I'm not railing against my lack of power over my own life." Ealorna's voice lowered as she stepped closer, becoming an angry hiss.

"Egard is everything a woman could want for a husband, Sarah. He owns a good home on father's land, is young and handsome, and treats me respectfully and affectionately. He is wealthy, and is more than capable of providing for me. I like him, I enjoy his company, and I cannot find a reason to be dissatisfied with this situation." Her expression hardened even further.

"Honestly, Sarah. Marriage for women in our positions is inevitable; you must forgive us for feeling happy when we are pleased with our future husband."

"You know it is not marriage I have qualms with; not really. It is how a man treats his wife that bothers me." Sarah whispered, desperately hoping no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Egard treats me perfectly!" Ealorna said exasperatedly. "I know that I'll be happy married to him."

"But do you love him?" Sarah couldn't help but ask, instantly regretting it when she saw the expression on her friend's face. Oh, but _why_ had she had to say that? Granted, as a girl Sarah had been dreamy, and an utter romanticist, but she wasn't that child anymore, damn it all. She was nearly grown at seventeen; time to give up on the childish notion of being carried off to a kingdom far from her father's reach by a lovestruck prince who lived only for her, or of being spirited away from her restricting life as a princess altogether by a kindhearted bandit who was truly noble at heart.

"Love, Sarah? That is the requirement you have for marriage? That you must love the groom?" Ealorna shook her head with a sigh. "Do I love Egard? No, I do not think I do. But do I think that I shall have camaraderie and peace in my marriage despite the lack of said sentiment, and hope that in time we may learn to love one another? Yes, I do."

Guilt ate at the lingering anger in Sarah; she and the daughter of the count had been friends since childhood, when Ealorna's mother would come to the castle to visit Sarah's mother Belinda, bringing the young lady with her.

"I'm sorry, Ealorna. I _am_ glad that you're happy. Truly I am. I just..." she trailed off with a helpless shrug. What could she say? That while she enjoyed the sight of her friend's bliss, she in all honesty thought that she accepting a fate worse than death? True, it was considered to be a daughter's duty to mind her father, and mind her sire Ealorna did, but when one married, a woman made a solemn, binding vow to _honor _and _obey _her husband, to _serve _him with such a devotion that not even a daughter gave her father. But no, to point that out would only serve to infuriate the lady further, and Sarah knew better than to do that. While her temper might not have matched Sarah's, it was formidable in its own right.

"I know, Sarah." she replied, one corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. "I know."

An uncomfortable silence began to creep upon them, and Sarah spoke before it could set in. "How is Brine?" she asked quickly, referring to Ealorna's elder brother, whom Sarah was also close with. "Is he in attendance?"

"He is well. My betrothal pleased him." she grinned at Sarah. "He could not come tonight; a certain Lady Rosaly has caught his eye, and he is busy trying to woo her. Of course," she noted, "he did not heed me when I warned him his efforts were futile, as everyone knows her father won't marry her off for a few years yet—she is but ten and six—and I plan on being smug to him when he returns home after failing to strike a match." she lightly chuckled. "You do know how he hates to lose."

"Aye, that he does." Sarah agreed, knowing that while neither of their feelings on the subject of Ealorna's betrothal had changed, they had both just made the silent agreement to ignore that fact for the sake of their friendship. She repressed a sigh and the urge to rub her forehead in irritation; how often would she and Lorna have to do this?

As in typical Ealorna fashion, the lady began babbling about whatever thought happened to be passing through her head (which at the moment seemed to a list of faults that made Lady Rosaly an unsuitable bride for Brine) and as usual Sarah attempted to ignore whatever it was she was saying.

Where was Jareth right now? She wondered. What did he, a fae demon, spend his nights doing? Thinking of ingenious and cunning ways to deceive and beguile hapless little humans, or did he simply relax in the comfort of whatever home he claimed for his own? What sort of homes did demons live in, anyway? She had heard that there were certain uncivilized races of demon that lived in nothing but shacks constructed of dirt and grass, but somehow she couldn't picture the ethereally graceful Jareth hunkering down in a small house made of mud.

The image that brought to mind made her grin and choke on laughter, causing her companion to look at her with questioning annoyance.

"Sarah? Are you even _listening_ to me?"

"Of course I am." she answered promptly, lying through her teeth.

"Then pray tell, what did I just say?"

"Just now?" she clarified, her lips threatening to pull into a cheeky grin and belie her act of innocence. Oh, but Ealorna was _fun_ to tease.

"Yes, _just now._" Ealorna's jaw was clenched in irritation while her lips formed a sullen pout. Honestly; and Sarah was told _she_ was childish.

"You said 'Sarah, are you even listening to me?'" she recited solemnly before rolling her eyes mockingly. "I _do_ occasionally listen to you when you speak, Ealorna."

"The key part of that statement being _occasionally."_ Ealorna said with a mock glare. Before Sarah could respond, her dearest friend immediately resumed flopping her tongue, speaking so enthusiastically there wasn't even a pause between her sentences.

Resigning herself to a long evening with her voluble friend, she clasped her hands before her and waited for the few and far between openings she would have to get a word in edgewise.

_Odd, but my conversations with Jareth never seem to go like this. _Sarah thought wistfully, briefly wondering how it could be that a _demon_ whom she had known for three days was a better conversationalist than a human girl whom she's known nearly her entire life. And why she seemed to miss his amusing company more than she had Ealorna's in their absence.

_Very odd indeed._

**... ... ...**

Jareth was reclining in his blessedly empty throne room, lying at an angle in his chair of office as opposed to sitting in it. His subjects, thank gods, were quietly sleeping, and even the ones that were awake weren't in the castle. A languorous smile stretched his lips as he rested his chin on his thumb, gloved fingers cradling his cheek. Had anyone been there to see, they would have thought he looked much like a cat who had not only eaten the canary, but who had also just finished an entire bowl of cream and was now preparing for a well-deserved nap.

The pretty lady Sarah entered his languid thoughts as he sat there, prompting his smile to turn to a smirk. And just what was the spirited girl of noble birth doing with herself on such a night? Reading, mayhap? Or engaging in a lively debate with that family she couldn't seem to stand? Or perhaps she was with that "Toby" he had overheard her speak of the day he saved her? Toying with the idea of scrying on her with a crystal, just for something to do, he conjured one and began to slide it around on his hand, in lazier but more complex movements.

When would he see her next? He was already imagining ways to make her glass green eyes sparkle with irritation, and for that impatient furrow to appear between her brows. Her anger was an amusement, and her peculiarities intriguing. He grinned and gave a throaty laugh. And her wit?

Damn near as sharp as her tongue, it was.

Life had been getting a bit tedious and repetitive of late, and he had a feeling the human girl could provide a delightful diversion from the monotonous existence of being Jareth, King of the Goblins, Son of King Oberon and Queen Titania, and Heir Presumptive to the Crown of Fae.

Releasing a bored groan as he gave a feline stretch that turned into a sigh, he contemplated going out and looking for something to kill for sport in the Labyrinth, but couldn't muster up any necessary blood lust. Venturing out of Goblin Land and into the Fae Courts to search for willing bedmate sounded appealing in theory, but as with the spot of hunting, he was unable to garner any desire for company.

_No, not true. _He corrected himself. _Company would be nice, but not that of some ruthless demoness after my title. More like that of the slight human who has yet to cease surprising and beguiling me. _

_And here I was under the impression that it was **I** who was meant to be intriguing. Bloody human switched our roles, she did._ He smirked, and allowed his eyes to close._ Ah well; can't say that I mind it._

The king was very near a light sleep when he felt a sudden thrum of magic pulse through his being, and opened his eyes in surprise. His eyebrows pulled together and his mouth formed a snarl at the thought that someone was audacious enough to disturb him. Who the bleeding hell would bother him at this hour? None of the fae ladies of court would be so brazen as to summon him to merely issue an invitation for carnal pleasures, and now was hardly a time where a fellow ruler would wish to discuss political matters...Or rather, the deceit and betrayal and power-hungry actions they had decided to call _politics,_ as it were.

_Jareth._

The whisper sounded directly into his ear, spoken by a feminine voice that was tentative and doubtful, but not nervously so. More as if they were performing a test they felt they already knew the outcome of. And the summons...was it coming from one of his crystals?

"Sarah." he purred suddenly, blue eyes glinting with devilish intent now that he had realized the summoner. Of course she would have had to try and use the crystal, just to attempt to prove to herself that it would not work. But he had seen the fascination in her eyes as she had gazed at his gift, and _knew_ that beneath those doubting scoffs she wanted his tales of prowess to be true.

So what sight would greet him when he arrived, he wondered with a sharp smile. Would she still be wearing that day's ensemble of shirt and breeches, curiously rolling the crystal in her hands, with a self-satisfied smile on her lips and sad disappointment in eyes? Or would she be dressed for sleep, wearing virginal, high-necked, and faintly diaphanous white? Jareth couldn't help but laugh at the thought of her reaction to his abrupt presence; shock, anger, but perhaps some well-hidden delight?

Wait a moment. He narrowed his eyes. Perhaps he had better scry her, just to be sure of what he was walking into. Granted he had informed Sarah that he no longer felt the need to watch her as he would a viper poised to strike, but he would have to be mad to willingly appear in the home of a human lord who had a prejudice against demons without so much as a cursory glance at the situation.

It was not that he thought Sarah would betray him to anyone—he would have never have continued to see her after saving her hide if he had—but perhaps the crystal had been discovered and recognized for what it was? He could be walking into a trap that Sarah had unwillingly led him into. The idea made him grimace.

Quickly conjuring another crystal, having willed the one he had been tinkering with away, he focused on finding Sarah, slowly rotating the orb in his hand to the right until colors began to appear, morphing into images. He leaned closer to peer at what was there.

Sarah was clutching the crystal in one hand as she held it closely to her face, with her long, dark hair loose and unbound, and he noticed with a brief smile, was dressed in naught but a nightdress. She was looking around what he took to be her personal chamber, an eyebrow raised as she searched for him. Shaking his head and tsking, he straightened and tossed the crystal aside, where it soundlessly shattered into millions of shimmering, non-crystal-like flecks against a wall.

Tossing his long hair over his shoulder, Jareth gathered magic, and much like he had done earlier that day to return home, he faded from sight in his throne room, and began to slowly reappear in Sarah's bedroom.

Right behind where he had seen her standing, he thought with a satisfied smirk.

_This should prove amusing..._

**... ... ...**

Sarah wasn't exactly surprised to discover that the bit of glass did nothing, demon made or not. The thought of Jareth duping her wasn't a far-fetched notion in her mind either; it was something his kind were renowned for after all. No, what was coming as a bit of a shock to her was her _disappointment_. She hadn't even known that she had wanted the orb to work in the first place, she thought irritatedly, scoffing aloud at herself and preparing to fling the worthless trinket back into the draw of her desk where she had hidden it beside a pretty bit of stone her mother's uncle had given her as a child, and a pouch of dried petals that had come from a rose a stammering stable boy had thrust into her hands when she had been twelve.

Upon returning home after that ghastly ball, her feet sore from standing and her back aching from being held perfectly straight, it had been a struggle unlike any other to not snarl and snap at Irena and Ricard, or the servants who had attended her. She ran a hand through her hair as she thought back to the evening. Gods above, below, and every other blessed direction; did all nobility find it necessary to be rude and conniving and faultfinding, or was it only the royalty she was acquainted with that thought it fine to behave in such an annoying manner? If it had not been for Ealorna's constant chatter, Sarah might have gone mad.

Blowing out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding noisily through her lips, she let her shoulders drop and turned to climb into bed, only to loudly and shrilly shriek as she stopped short at the familiar wild-haired figure before her. Clapping a hand over her gaping mouth, she stumbled back with her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Now precious Sarah, do not tell me you were so upset over the thought of not seeing me." Jareth feigned a disapproving expression, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at her like an amused parent would at a naughty child.

She would have retorted something biting and pithy, and the look he was giving her should have had her hackles rising, but honestly she was too busy simultaneously panicking and trying to calm her heart.

_Oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods. I've a demon in my room. I've a **demon** in my room. I've a **demon** in my **room!** What if the nightwatch heard my shout? Or a servant? Ricard would have my head and Jareth...well I'm not sure what would befall Jareth, powerful demon that he is, but I sincerely doubt it would be something good. Either way, he needs to leave. Preferably **before** he's discovered._

"Something wrong, Sarah?" Jareth teased, quirking a brow, his delight in her discomfort plain in his eyes.

"Jareth. You—how did you—? Oh never mind, you need to leave! Forthwith!" she whispered furiously, eyes on the door and ears straining for the sound of approaching steps.

"But I've only just arrived," Jareth said innocently, pursing his lips at her sullenly. "And need I remind you, Sarah-love, that it is _you_ who sent for _me?_ If anything, I should not have heeded your call in the first place." he raked a critical eye over the room, noting the details in but one sweep. "Quite the extravagant chamber you have, my lady. Although," he tapped a leather-clad finger on his chin pensively as he studied the rich, overt fabrics and ornate furniture that clearly wasn't to Sarah's taste. "Not exactly how I imagined your rooms would be decorated, but befitting of a lady nonetheless."

"Never mind the decorations!" she growled at him, stepping closer to him than propriety allowed. "You are in a household of Brrisa that is heavily guarded by an _ever_ vigilant nightwatch! Do you know what my father would do if he caught you in here?"

Jareth rolled his eyes and gave Sarah a patronizing smirk. "There is very little that your father could do to me, Sarah." he said patiently, his tone even more condescending than his smile. Sarah's teeth clicked together as she clenched her jaw, glowering balefully at the demon as her blood boiled. "Besides, these walls appear to be made of solid stone, and everyone here is at sleep, save the nightwatch. And I would wager that it oversees the _outside_ of the keep as opposed to the inside of it. Also, I _am_ a fae darling. My ears are keener than yours, and I hear no one approaching."

His overtly saccharine tone made her temper rear its head. How _dare_ he speak to her as if she were simple!

"Do not treat me like a child!" The viciousness in her voice had Jareth's brows climbing. "I am trying to keep the both of us safe, damn your eyes! I am not eager to be beheaded, nor to see you suffer at my father's hands! I would have _never_ summoned you here had I known you would actually appear! I thought you were simply jesting with me about that little bit of glass! I would have never in my life have volitionally placed you in danger like this!"

In spite of the fact that she was breathing heavily with rage, in spite of the fact that her hands were balled into fists so tightly her nails were probably biting into her palms, and _definitely_ in spite of the fact that her eyes were spouting murder, Jareth could not resist taunting her some more, be it detrimental to his health or not.

"Even if meant depriving yourself of my presence, precious?" he asked, feigning both innocence and astonishment. _Impudent bastard,_ she thought with grudging admiration, _he even has the audacity to press a hand over his breast like the idiotic ladies of court do._

"Yes, Jareth. Even if." she said tersely. "Now kindly leave before armed guards storm the room. Or I endeavor to kill you, one of the two."

She regretted muttering that last, petulant bit the moment the words left her mouth—no one but the daft threatened a demon—and truly regretted them when she saw the fae's face. While normally he might be able to pass for human with his features such as they were, all that Sarah saw at the moment was demon. Wicked, beguiling, and harsh demon.

Suddenly, the thought of the castle guards storming in held infinitely more appeal than it had a moment ago.

Jareth's handsome visage was twisted in a sharp, malevolent smile (if such a positioning of the lips could even be _called_ a smile) that emphasized his strong cheekbones, prominently displayed his inhuman teeth, and matched the sudden malicious gleam in his eyes. A shiver of fear ran up her spine, and her sense of self-preservation was begging her to run, to flee as fast as she possibly could in the opposite direction of this..._creature_ before he decided to do unspeakable things to her.

"Now my dearest, darling Sarah," His voice might have been velvet soft, but in her mind that only served to accent the deadly undertones, "Was that a _threat?"_

He stepped towards her, head bowed to stare down her face, and continued to move closer still. "Are you aware of how any other demon would react to your words, girl? They would break you as an errant little boy does his sister's cherished doll, and then amuse themselves by playing with the pieces. Only doing so, of course, _after_ you had endured a sufficient amount of emotional suffering." His head was tilted backwards as he cackled, predatory eyes still piercing her as his maniacal laughter sounded, only now a glimmer of humor was visible. "Your face is white as snow, my lady. Perhaps you've had a fright?" he taunted.

Just as suddenly as he turned spiteful, he reverted back into the languid and sardonic demon whom she had engaged in pleasant conversation with just earlier that day. Her heart still hammering and her voice still unsteady with fear, she spoke.

"Is it a fae trait to be capricious, Jareth, or simply on of your own personal peculiarities?" she asked, swallowing nervously to combat the dryness of her mouth. She delicately cleared her throat when he grinned wryly at her and moved away, clasping one hand around the opposite wrist and holding them like that behind his back.

"A general fae trait, as it were." he said warmly, melting the icy fear that had previously frozen her. "It is in our nature to be easily swayed from one passion to another, be it from love to hate, sadness to anger, or from tranquil to violent, at a moment's notice."

"Hm. I was unaware of this." she said, still a bit dazed from the fact that she had a _demon_ in her _room_. A _male_ demon at that.

"Oh don't act so enlightened," Jareth sniffed, "Humans know next to nothing of demons; even less of my kind. And what precious little information you do have you twist, and misconstrue."

Wanting to defend herself and her race, she opened her mouth to do so, but closed it when she realized that Jareth, devils take him, was not entirely wrong. Her eyes narrowed at him.

"Fine. You have made a point." she conceded, _"Now_ would you kindly take your leave? I would hate to repay my debt to you by having you thrown in the dungeons."

"You have dungeons here?" he asked with surprise. Sarah held back a wince. Not many manors and keeps owned by lords possessed such things, and being as she was supposed to be naught but the daughter of an influential lord, her home would likely not have a dungeon.

"Er, yes. My father insisted on having them added to the keep upon inheriting it." Actually the dungeons were older than her father by near fifty years, but what of it?

"Hm." Was all Jareth blessedly had to say on the matter before changing subject. "Well, precious, I assume you had a reason for calling me here? Or was it none other than to see my handsome face one last time before you went to bed?"

She rolled her eyes, and affected a pose she had seen dozens of simpering ladies strike when fawning over a physically appealing knight. "Oh yes, Jareth. You've caught me. The thought of not seeing your visage before sleep was so distressing, I just could not resist the urge to place your life in mortal danger by calling you here." Dropping the stance, she reluctantly returned his smile.

"Ah, tis as I thought." He heaved a despondent sigh and shook his head ruefully. "Then I have done something that I have sworn ne'er to do in my long, long lifetime."

Although his tone suggested he was jesting, and she had a feeling would regret asking, she looked at him suspiciously. "And what would that be?"

"Enchanting a pretty mortal girl to fall helplessly in love with me, of course." Jareth said, the mirth in his eyes contradicting the sorrow in his expression. "I suppose it was bound to happen though. What with my ethereal beauty and astounding wit, alluring charm and dashing heroics, it is indeed a wonder I did not foresee this happening. But do not fear my dear. I shall not toy with your affections." Jareth winked at her.

Unable to decide whether she was choking on laughter or anger, Sarah just gaped at Jareth, floundering for something to say.

"Oh, of all the—!" she snickered, desperately trying to not lose her anger in the ridiculousness of it all. "Jareth, does your arrogance know no bounds?"

"None whatsoever," he cheerfully informed her, causing her to giggle and shake her head in defeat.

"Yes, well, I do believe it is time for the lovesick mortal to be abed." Sarah said seriously, "I have more training come the morrow, and I need my rest for it. Not to mention the assemblage my father requested of me upon finishing my lessons." she grumbled under breath, dreading the thought of speaking with her father. With the suitors no longer arriving, what else could there possibly be for the two of them to talk of?

"I was rather under the impression that your father paid you very little mind." Jareth said curiously, recalling their previous conversation. "Unless it was concerning a betrothal betwixt you and another."

"Normally, yes, but he just informed me not yesterday that we were no longer expecting any prospective husbands to arrive to attempt to court me, nor to the best of my knowledge am I promised to anyone, and I have already been rebuked for my earlier exploit with the clothes..." she shrugged. "So as to what he wants I cannot say, but in my experience it is never anything that bodes well for me, and I shall need my wits about me."

"I see." Jareth said as he nodded. "If that be the case than I wish you well, Lady Sarah, and the best of luck."

"Wishes of luck have never done me any good." she replied with an embittered snort.

"Ah, but they have never been the well-wishes of a fae, now have they?" Smirking, he seemed prepared to leave with that befuddling statement, but paused a moment to consider her. "Might I inquire as to when I can expect to see you again, precious?"

She chose to ignore his use of the endearment despite her previous request that he use her name, and thought a moment. Not to question the sanity of continuing her acquaintance with Jareth, but rather of when she could slip away. Ponderously, she stared at the demon.

"I cannot meet you here, for the risk of being caught is too great, and I sincerely doubt I shall have leave to ride before noon..." Brightening as an idea came to her, she smiled broadly at Jareth. "Would you object to meeting at sunset at the tree by the river? From time to time I go later in the day and at night, when I obtain permission, that is. I'm sure if I mind my tongue and manners with my father tomorrow I can acquire it. Does that suit you?"

"That suits me very well." the fae responded, "Until then, precious."

Eyes growing, Sarah watched in awe as Jareth began to _dissolve_ before her, becoming more and more translucent, until he was no longer there. Reminding herself dazedly that he was fae, she cocked her head and reached out a hand to touch the strange, sparkling specks of goodness knew what that were floating on the air, seemingly the only evidence that Jareth had ever been there. She wrinkled her nose as they stubbornly clung to her skin no matter how she scrubbed at it, and sunk into the rug over the stone floor.

How was she supposed to explain that to the servants?

* * *

**As always, feel free to share your thoughts and opinions with me, because every time I get the email telling me I've got another review, a nice little jolt of excitement and happiness shoots through me, from my fingers down to my toes. Of course, it's always laced with the fear that the review will be made up entirely of someone telling me how awful my story is and how badly they hate it, but whatever.**

**Also, and I'm saying this just to be evil, but does anyone think that the meeting Sarah is going to have with her father the next day will throw in a game changer of epic proportions? Like possibly getting the ball rolling on the major plot-line of this story? Hmm...Methinks it be a possibility...But hey, I'm only the writer. For all I know he could just be wanting to pointlessly belittle her some more.  
**

**But I doubt it. ;)**

**Later my lovelies, hope you liked the chapter!**


	5. A Portentous Morning

**Disclaimer: *SIGH* This is getting repetitious...It's not mine, it's never gonna be. You're just a big meanie, to make me keep saying that...**

**A/N: Hello all, here it is, chapter number five, or as I call it, the one with the drama! And I know 22 days is kind of a long wait for the chap, but it was 11 pages of game-changing stuff, so I believe there should be the cutting of the slack. **

**But wait or not, here it is people! :D**

**Okay, now onto the serious matters. Once again, I owe you, the readers, so much thanks! I got my 110th review yesterday, and I practically went through the roof! Well, I did that when I got my 111th review today, and with every review before that, but the point of that was oh my goblins! 110+ REVIEWS! You guys are so amazing with the feedback you've given me, and how much you all seem to like this story astounds me! So again, thank you all so, so much! I really just can't say that enough; thank you thank you thank you!**

**Also, to clear up a question I have yet to be asked but I feel I must address; you know that female OC I introduced in the last chapter? Ealorna? Yeah, about her name...It's pronounce differently than it's spelled. Like Ay-lorna. "ay" rhyming with "say". Like how the name "Seamus" is pronounced like "Shay-mus", think of the name Ealorna like that. Maybe some of you were pronouncing it like that already, but I figured a few people were saying it like "Ee-lorna." So sorry for the confusion if there was any; I completely spaced clarifying that in the author's note of the 4th chapter.**

**A huge thanks to the amazing Kaytori, who as of chapter 4 has been my beta, and is generally helping me not suck...and cut down on the details. Seriously, I really went overboard on those sometimes, didn't I?**

**Well, despite feeling like I'm forgetting to mention something, I'll stop for now and let you read, but I really must ask that you read the author's note I put at the end of the chapter. Please, for me? *Gives puppy-dog pout with wibbly eyes*...**

**Okay, enjoy! And remember, read the last A/N!**

* * *

Morning came too early for the Brrisian princess, the sound of an unfamiliar voice speaking waking her from her peaceful slumber.

"Good morning my lady." Sarah forced her eyes open at the sound, and blearily lifted her head from her pillow to see the owner of said voice.

Unlike most other princesses, Sarah had never selected a few ladies from the Brrisian nobility to fill the positions, never having taken a liking to the possible candidates, something which she and Irena had often argued over in the past. The result of said quarrels had resulted in Irena attempting to install her own choices of women as Sarah's personal attendants, but after numerous failed attempts to do so, the queen had admitted defeat and simply instructed the castle steward to send a female servant who could be spared to Sarah every morning and night.

Today's would-be lady-in-waiting was young Sarah saw as she studied her through tired eyes, likely fourteen, with a painfully deferential and courteous demeanor if the fact that the girl kept her head slightly bowed as she briskly went to the window was any indication.

The girl pulled the draperies open, allowing sunshine to flood the room. Sarah winced and sat up in bed, holding a hand over her eyes in an attempt to shield them from the painfully bright rays

"What shall the lady wear today?"

She yawned, and tried to think passed the cotton in her mind to answer the girl. What was she to wear today? She had training with Uris this morning after breakfast, didn't she? Along with that infernal meeting with her infernal father. And something else...There was something else she was meant to do today, no? Brushing that niggling thought aside, she focused on answering the girl's query. Sparring lesson, meeting with her father; the answers eventually came to her.

"A tunic. And leggings." she said, her voice rough with sleep. "You may also lay out a gown; I have an audience with his majesty later today and I must be attired accordingly." Normally Sarah loathed to refer to Ricard respectfully, and despite her dislike of him, it would do no good for her to speak ill of the king whilst in the presence of those who he reigned over.

"Y-yes my lady," the girl said, her faint surprise at the day's attire briefly showing on her face, and causing her to forget herself and personal rules for a moment and stare at Sarah. Sliding out of bed, Sarah gave the girl a warm, tired smile, startling her into action. She fought a chuckle as the girl scrambled to the large wardrobe and retrieved the requested items.

"My thanks." Sarah said with a warm smile as the garments were laid on the bed, and her boots had been fetched. The girl bobbed a curtsey and blushed a pretty pink at the simple praise. "You may return to your normal duties; I can dress myself."

"As you wish, my lady." Another curtsey later, and the girl had left the room.

Yawning again behind her hand and luxuriously stretching her limbs, Sarah rubbed at her face to remove the last remnants of slumber from it and her mind, and surveyed the girl's choices. Forest green shirt, and leggings the color of dry dirt. It would do. Unlacing her nightdress, she slid it over her head and dropped it onto the coverlet, knowing that another servant would come and fetch it for the laundress.

After finishing dressing, she sat at her desk, above which Irena had so _kindly_ thought to have a garish looking-glass hung. She grabbed a comb from one its drawers and with a face of distaste at the glass, began to work on the snarls that had formed overnight. Wincing at times when she pulled too harshly, she watched her motions in the glass, thoughts miles away.

_What does Ricard want? Surely it is not to tell me that he lied about the suers? __It wouldn't be the first time he's lied of course, but he's never tried to lie to me about something such as this before._ She frowned as she continued thinking._And even if he had been veracious at the time, what if it had only been concerning the fact that no new suitors would be arriving? He could not have secured a betrothal without my knowing..._

"Could he?" she whispered to herself, her hand stilling mid-stroke in her hair as a knot of worry sickeningly tightening in her belly. There were still princes and kings that had never met her, or heard the rumors of the lovely but shrewish Princess Sarah of Brrisa, and would likely agree to a betrothal.

_But no; if Ricard **had** promised me off, he would not have been able to contain himself. _She tried to reason, _He would have proceeded to frolic through the corridors singing like a fool, and would have ordered the largest celebration that the kingdom has seen since Toby's birth. All the while gloating about his victory over me, of course. _

Although she felt no more calmer than she had a moment ago, she felt slightly more reassured. Ricard was boastful, after all, and had been trying to secure a betrothal for Sarah before she had even reached her brother's age. With the promise that the actual solemnity itself would occur when she was older, naturally. So had he finally succeeded, it would have undoubtedly come to light by now.

"Wouldn't it?" she asked aloud, staring at her worried reflection before rolling her eyes and resuming brushing her hair. Gods, look what Ricard had reduced her to. Babbling to herself like a madwoman, and pointlessly fretting about things like a ninny. Honestly. She ought to be ashamed of herself. If she was promised, she would do everything in her power to make her betrothed rue the day that he had been approached by her father. And if, gods preserve her, she could not persuade him to negate the agreement...

Well, she had always known she wouldn't stay unwed forever, hadn't she? But even with that thought in her mind, the comb was replaced back its drawer with a nervously fumbling hand, which then proceeded to unsettle a pile of hairpins she didn't bother to rearrange. She breathed in and out slowly, smoothing her frazzled nerves and steadying herself.

Knowing that she would need to plait her hair in order to keep it out of the way whilst training, she divided it into three thick locks, and began to intertwine them. When she was younger, it had taken her near thirty minutes to achieve a perfect braid, but after years of practice in spite of Irena's belief a princess should never style her own hair, she had mastered the process enough to complete it within ten.

A long piece of old, frayed ribbon was wrapped around the end, and tied tightly into a secure knot. She had wanted to use a strip of leather, as the men with long hair did when they tied back their locks, but when Irena had caught wind of it she had most adamantly protested it. Sarah could have her grudging consent to learn archery and be instructed on how to properly handle a weapon, and her reluctant consent to acquire such skills whilst dressed as a man, but no royal stepdaughter of _her's_ would use something as lowly as a scrap of hide to tie her hair with. Not as if she were some common, nescient farmer's stout and blowsy daughter who frolicked about in bare feet.

She grimaced at the memories of that particular tongue-lashing. How dare Irena insult the farmers whose hard-earned crops filled the castle's stores and made the sustenance that graced their plates at mealtimes possible? It was deplorable, Sarah thought, how easily the nobility seemed to forget their dependance upon those they considered beneath them.

Any further effort put into her appearance would go to waste, she knew, as despite Uris never allowing her to so much as perspire with exertion, anything elaborate would become mussed by her movements. She stood, and exited her chambers with a vaguely grim look on her face as she made her way to the dining hall for breakfast.

_Of course Irena shall insist upon making a barb at my attire, and Ricard will be his usual self, but at least as I shall be able to spend some time with Toby. He was upset with me, I know, for my leaving the castle last night. Ah well. Perhaps tonight I shall spin him a new tale before bed, to make amends. He does so love it when I play the part of a bard._ A loving smile spread her lips at the thought of her sibling, and her steps quickened. He would naturally be bit cross, given the early hour and his young age, but she was eager the little fractious bear nonetheless.

Her entrance into the dining hall was shockingly quiet. Irena did nothing but bid her a polite good morning that was tarnished by nothing but the vaguest tightening of her lips and wrinkling of her nose, and Ricard gave her an astonishingly pleasant greeting coupled by a smile of genuine mirth.

Sarah faltered for a moment, but recovered and hastily—if a bit quizzically—replied. "Ah, good morrow, my lord and lady." she said, and surreptitiously eyed the king. He seemed..._happy._ And he was being..._kind._ Veraciously so, if the unconscious upward curling of his lips and content glow in his eyes was an indication. Her earlier dread increased tenfold as she took her place at the long table, and began to serve herself from the various platters of breads, porridges, pastries, and fruits. When she had last seen her father appear this jovial, it had been after the covenants securing Toby's place as his successor had been written and signed. Granted he did not appear as ecstatic as he had then, but still, the similarities were present.

"Good morning sister." Toby said to her, a grin on his face that was just made all the sweeter by the smear of honey on it, a few crumbs caught in the sticky mixture. Likely the remnants of a previously devoured oat cake, she thought with some amusement. The boy certainly did possess a love for the treat, especially when smothered with a generous helping of honey. She smiled back, pleased to see that his young mind wasn't holding a grudge against her for attending that ball last night.

"Good morning brother." she said warmly. Normally their greetings would not have been so formal, but when in the presence of the king and queen, certain formalities were better to keep. Besides, simply because the words were not familiar, they didn't lessen their sincerity.

She began to eat the bread and porridge she had served herself, when she suddenly remembered the event of that day's schedule which had previously escaped her sleep-addled mind.

_Jareth._ Sarah thought as a blush rose to her cheeks. _Gods above and below, I had Jareth in my chambers last night! _

She almost gasped and her hold upon her utensil loosened until it was it was dangerously close to falling into the surprisingly tasteful mush before her as another thought entered her mind. _And he saw me in my nightdress! No doubt he shall mention that upon our next encounter tonight._

_Oh yes, our next encounter._ _Which reminds me..._Placing upon her face the tranquilly emotionless mask she forever wore when acting the princess the Brrisian court demanded she be, she looked to Ricard, and selected her words with infinite care.

"My king," he always seemed to have a more positive response to her requests when she used that title, "I was wondering if I may, with your permission, ride Petal today?" Usually she would have specified the hour of which she wished to go on this excursion, but she had learned that it was always better to make her petitions in pieces as apposed to asking it all at once. Her tone of voice was crucial as well. Any sweetness would immediately be recognized for the that lie it was, but her normal mannerly speech was always interpreted as disrespect in his mind.

"Ride out today?" Ricard mused, shocking Sarah by not being instantly souring upon hearing that she was asking for something. Instead, he maintained his jovial demeanor, and eventually nodded. "I suppose I could allow that; I see no reason to forbade it. That palfrey of yours accepts no other rider anyway, and she needs her exercise. What hour were you considering riding out at?"

_And now for the difficult part._ Sarah thought with a mental grimace.

"I was thinking that I could perhaps go for a night ride, my lord? I have not gone on one in some time, and I know I am safe so long as I stay on the castle grounds." She nearly rolled her eyes at herself at her subtle pride-pandering. Of course she were safe on castle grounds, because they were under her father's care, and all her father touched became gilded and flourished, did it not?

"Hm, a night ride you say?" he stroked his jaw, fingers brushing against his well-kept whiskers. "Well, so long as you return at a reasonable hour I suppose I cannot object. The grounds are safe as you say...And you shall bring your bow? I would hate for some beast or animal to attack you while defenseless."

The demon snake that Jareth had saved her from entered her mind, and she swallowed a laugh at the irony. She sincerely doubted possessing a bow at the time would have helped her any. She still wouldn't have been awake to draw it, after all, she thought wryly.

"As you wish, my lord." There, now she was free to visit with Jareth. She continued to eat in smug silence when Ricard stood, and after saying how he had a meeting with the castle smithy to go to, he looked to Sarah.

"I shall see you in my study after your lesson with Uris." He bid Toby and Irena a fond goodbye, and left her sitting there in stunned silence. How _dare_ he speak to her like that, as if she were some lowly being unworthy of the words it took to form an actual farewell. And then to speak to his wife and son in a such a fond way; to make his favoritism so blatant!

_Bastard. Wretch._ She stared blindly into her dish, grasping her utensil so tightly the skin on her knuckles went white. And that tone...gods help her, but she despised that tone. _One day, I will not have to heed him. One day he'll succeed in binding me in a marriage, and I will be the consort of a ruler._ A slow smile of arrant, wicked malice came onto her face, the danger in her eyes glinting as it would in any fae demon's.

_And when that day comes, my first action as queen consort shall be to lay siege to Brrisa, and place Toby on the throne. A child-king would be better than that pig, of that I'm sure._

Her appetite having vanished when confronted with her father's belittling and her worry of the cause of his happiness and how it could concern her, she sighed and dabbed at her mouth daintily with her napkin. Dropping it carelessly back onto the table beside her dish, she stood, her eyes on Toby. She briefly considered stopping him from eating the fruit pastry he was attempting to stuff into his mouth, but didn't. He was still a boy after all, and one who would only learn the lesson to not over-indulge in sweets by feeling the pain of the bellyache later.

She would know; she had warned him before of the consequences of such eating habits, and he had yet to head them.

"I shall come to you later, brother. Perhaps to tell you a tale before you sleep?"

"Yes, please!" Toby agreed enthusiastically, bouncing lightly in his seat once or twice before remembering that his mother was also at the table, and did not approve of such actions when sitting at it. "One with knights and brigands and dragons!"

Repressing a giggle at his enthusiasm, she nodded solemnly. "I believe I can manage that." she turned to Irena, "My queen." and with that cool parting to her stepmother, proceeded to leave the dining hall.

… … …

It did not take Sarah long to arrive at the courtyard where the men sparred and new recruits for the guard were trained, nor was it difficult for her to locate Uris, who stood in a typical soldier's stance. Spine perfectly erect, shoulders relaxed, and arms behind his back, with one hand grasping the wrist of the opposite arm. He smiled as he saw her approach, and gave the slightest of bows from the waist.

"Uris." she greeted cordially, "I trust you fare well?"

"Incredibly so, my lady." he smiled, but it faded quickly. "Your father informed me that we were to train for but an hour today, so that he may speak with you at the lesson's end before he has to address his other duties. Also, the young prince is being taken on a hunt today, and I need naturally accompany him."

"Yes," she said, her tone conveying a sigh she couldn't voice. "His majesty told me of this yesterday."

The guard frowned at her with concern, and took a step towards her. "Sarah, is something wrong?"

His concern was touching, but she knew better than to share her fears with him. Uris disliked the unfair treatment she received from the king and his obvious favoritism of Toby, but that was the extent of his sympathies. He respected women and would never stand for their mistreatment, but like every other male, he firmly believed that females had their places, and that they should stay in them. To expect him to understand her worry over what Ricard's mood and his desire for a discussion with her could mean for her future would only incite him to lecture her, and to treat her as if she were a small child frightened by the prospect of riding a horse for the first time.

Giving him a falsely reassuring smile that lacked the effort needed to be convincing, she shook her head once negatively. "No, Uris. All is well. I think the king merely wishes to speak with me on some matter or the other; nothing more."

"If you say so, my lady." Blessedly allowing the subject to drop, they moved to an area near the other training men, with Uris carefully measuring his steps until he was standing little more than two feet away from her.

"We shall cover more evasive actions today." he stated, and Sarah surreptitiously rolled her eyes.

_Have we or have we not been covering this since these lessons began, or am I mistaken? Because I'm truly hard-pressed to think of anything he has taught me besides how to dodge blows and flee screaming._

He proceeded to lead her through a few small exercises to lead her into training, and from there on retouched on the subjects of evading a fist to the face and other such weaponless attacks whilst remaining steady on her feet. A spark of annoyance ignited within her at his repetition, but she held her tongue. After all, the practice of the skills she had already required would only serve to sharpen them, would it not?

Once he was satisfied that Sarah had _not_ forgotten how to slide to the side and leap back when under duress—something which took much longer than it should have in her opinion—he explained the new scenario in which she would be preparing to face should she ever find herself in it.

"Now princess, your attacker has succeeded in disarming you. He prepares to strike you with a blade; how do you evade him?" he asked calmly, advancing on Sarah with a dagger in his hand, poised to attempt to slice her belly—or possibly her throat, as the knife was aimed high—open. She just refrained from rolling her eyes when she saw that the dagger in his hand was, yet again, a fake carved from wood. Uris had never, not once, used real daggers in their sessions, and made sure to replace her own little blade with a false one as well, and the return it at the lesson's end. Another thought came to her mind as she watched the guard move; would they _ever_ move past defensive strategies, and to the offensive ones?

_Does he even realize that if he taught me how to not allow myself to be disarmed, this training would likely be rendered unnecessary? Or perhaps this is punishment for what I did yesterday in training..._

She took a step backwards for every step that he advanced forward, as she felt that that was what she would be doing had this been happening in reality, until Uris decided to "strike."

As she saw the blade coming at her, she sucked in a breath, and reached out to deflect the blow by catching the knife in her unprotected hand. Uris jerked away from her, weapon and all, looking horror-stricken at her actions.

_Oh dear, here it comes..._

"Princess Sarah!" The captain of the guard's voice was choked with shock and other innumerable emotions, all of which shown on his peculiar facial expression. His skin was both pale and red, as though he were ill with a fever, with his brown eyes wide and bulging. His mouth was hanging open, yet he was moving his jaw as up and down as one did when trying to relieve pain in the joints there. "I—how could you...Are you _mad,_ my lady? Do have _any_ notion of how dangerous that is? You could have lost a finger! Or sliced your hand in two at the palm! What were you thinking, to even attempt—" Uris was yelling now, gaining the attention of all who stood in the now deadly quiet courtyard, but he ceased his shouting by abruptly snapping his jaw closed. Sarah gave an unconscious flinch at the _click_ his teeth made. He took in a long, slow breath through his nose, held it for two calming beats, then just as slowly released it, again through his nose. Watching over a willful prince who had yet to reach even seven summers often required patience, and Uris disliked speaking or acting in anger, so as a result he had excellent control over the small temper he possessed.

"Sarah," his words were spoken so lowly they were almost undetectable to her ears, "Swear to me, here and now, that you shall _never again_ do that. Be it in practice with me or the gods forbid with an actual adversary, I want you to vow to me on your honor that you will never try to _catch a blade in your bare hand."_

While she had known that Uris wouldn't approve of such a rash move, as there really was no way for her to enact it without receiving injury, and had made the silent promise to herself to behave in the imperturbable manner a true queen—a title which Sarah knew she would one day fulfill, no matter that it would never be the queen of Brrisa—and to _not_ lose her temper. Yet when she felt that familiar tempest swell within her, Sarah found herself disregarding that little fact.

"And what should I have done, Uris? Flee in fright, wait for the savior that shall never come while my throat is being slit or my belly impaled on a sword? Allow myself to be dishonored in the worst manner possible simply because to do otherwise would be _unseemly?"_ she spat the oft-used word back at him, and gave him not her usual glare of icy countenance, but a hot glower of unalloyed fury. Fists balled and jaw defiantly raised, she advanced towards him.

"Pray tell Uris, when did a cut hand become the most grievous of injuries? As I recall that rubric could be applied to the most lethal of wounds. So how can a simple slice on the palm kill me, sir? Shall I bleed out, or die from harm caused to some vital organ I previously knew not existed in such a place? Well?" Her teeth ached in her mouth from how hard she was clenching them.

"While you might think a wounded palm is too heavy a price for my life, I blessedly do not, and as such shall _never_ make the oath you ask of me. If you truly believe I should sooner die as opposed to defend my own life, than I honestly cannot see the point in continuing these useless lessons." she growled at him before sharply turning on her heel to stalk away from him. "Discuss this with my father if you so choose; doubtless his words will carry greater weight with you than mine." she said resentfully as she left without looking back at Uris, and marched towards a servant's entrance to the castle.

Throwing the door open she stormed through the corridors, brushing past servants with little care. Her ire was propelling her onward, not allowing her to think about her words and actions and what the consequences of them could be. Her allowance of defense training had been a hard-won victory for her against Irena and Ricard, to lose the privilege that she had fought so hard for would be a bitter tonic to swallow.

_Damn him. Damn him straight to hell and back again. What fool would rather me die docilely than fight and live? Is that truly what they consider lady-like behavior? To be so weak that the idea of doing something strong is unfathomable? And perhaps Uris had a point in such a move being unwise, but damn thrice again, if he would only teach me something besides how to run away from an assailant!_

She was practically shaking with barely repressed anger, and hot tears were sending her vision swimming. As she neared her chambers, she absently noted that the number of servants she passed slowly dwindled until it was she and she alone who stalked the halls. Word had likely spread of her and Uris's quarrel, she thought with a malicious smirk, and now no one wanted to encounter her wrath by being in her path.

As if she would take out her frustration on anyone. It wasn't some serving girl or laundress's fault the world was unfair. Never mind that they supported the injustices brought against them; there was really little a woman in their position could do to change them. No, at the moment, the only people whom Sarah wanted to rail at, to fling things at, to do bodily harm to, were Uris and Ricard. Possibly Irena too, but Sarah didn't find her entirely to blame for her idiotic views. Her own father had been much like Ricard, from the little that Sarah remembered of the man. Only he had been kinder to his only daughter, choosing instead to sway Irena's mind with honeyed words and pretty trinkets as opposed to his majesty's less-than-subtle tactic of tyrannous opinions and the forbidding of any views that contrasted with his.

And Sarah would know; the king had gone through enough advisers over the years to make it blatantly obvious that he disliked being contradicted for what he considered unsound reasoning.

Arriving at her rooms faster than she had anticipated—likely because her ire had carried her there—she slammed the chamber doors shut behind her and went to her desk, eyes fixed on the empty inkwell Irena had given her for a birthday. Sarah had never cared for it, as it was made fashioned from silver and gold and bore the emblem of the Brrisian kingdom; in addition to her father's personal seal, of course. She sneered at the heavy object in her hand, weighing it. Who in all the circles of hell had an _inkwell_ made from precious metals? The smile that came over her face was more a malignant baring of teeth than anything, and it appeared not a moment before she threw the garish bauble with all the strength in her arm.

The loud, resounding noise it made as it crashed into the wall and bounced to the floor left her feeling immensely satisfied and her anger mostly diminished, as did the large dent in the soft gold of her father's seal. Leaving the hated thing where it lied, she glanced at the window for an indication of the time. She had requested a water clock or sundial to be placed in her chambers some time ago, but being as she had indirectly insulted her father before the assembled court two days prior to making the request, it had been spitefully denied.

Only half of the hour reserved for her training had passed, she guessed with a frown. Leaving her with the same amount of time before she needed to go to Ricard. That wasn't long enough for a ride on Petal, and she also wouldn't risk riding the mare anyway as her father would likely forbid her to ride a second time that day. It also wasn't enough time for her to practice with her aim in archery, and no doubt the men and servants would still be whispering about her latest fit of pique...A glance at the gown laying innocently on her bed gave her an unappealing idea. Perhaps a more effort on her part to look like the princess Ricard had always wanted would help the meeting go smoothly? With a sigh she moved towards the dress.

"Well it won't do any harm, at least." she said resignedly, and studied the gown she had ignored when dressing this morning. It was one fashioned to her taste, she noted with some happiness. A pale, pale white-blue color, with a shocking midnight blue underskirt. The sleeves would hug her arms to her elbows, before flaring out gently to fall to her knuckles. The skirts had multiple folds but if she recalled correctly, were not at all heavy. A square neckline showed her neck and collarbones to perfection, as did the off-shoulder sleeves, but preserved her modesty.

All in all, an excellent choice in her opinion, considering the gown had been selected by someone other than herself. Perhaps the girl had taken notice of Sarah's personal sense of fashion and had taken it into consideration?

Or perhaps she felt that the more elaborate gowns were not needed, since it was only her _beloved_ father she would be speaking with?

Deciding the girl's reasoning mattered not, she stripped herself of her clothing and as she had taken to doing, allowed it to fall to floor for the laundress to collect. Someone would also see to it that her boots were taken to the castle leather-worker and polished, as they always were whenever she wore them.

Slipping the gown over her head and tightening the stays, she wondered what jewels to wear. A diadem of some type would be needed, she knew. Perhaps the silver band of round-cut emeralds her father had presented her with once, when he had been in a generous mood? Or the delicate white gold circlet that bore no gems save a small, oval blue opal. That had belonged to Belinda, if memory served her well she thought as a sad smile spread her lips.

Hastily thinking of something else other than her dearly missed mother, she decided to wear the circlet. Paired with her strand of milky pearls. Such a sight would delight Ricard, would it not? To see the daughter he only cared for because of her supposed beauty and the prospects of what it could provide for his kingdom bedecked in finery? She would even wear a dreaded bit of lip-paint if that would sweeten him up and make him more tractable, she thought a bit desperately.

Sitting down once again at her desk, she untied the ribbon securing her braid, and ran a comb through her hair a few times to smooth any snarls and tame the wave her hair had developed from being plated. After searching fruitlessly for a few minutes for the desired articles of jewelry, she found them in one of the small wooden chests sitting on her desk. A pair of sapphire slippers with tiny seed pearls sewn onto the toes graced her feet, and she was now distastefully eying a small pot of paint that would turn her pale pink lips the color of dark, glossy rubies.

She hated the way the sticky, waxy tasting substance felt on her mouth, but even she couldn't deny the allure it lent her visage when worn.

"Then again," Sarah murmured, "perhaps wearing that would be a bit too much. I've never applied it for a meeting with him before. He'd likely question why I am doing so now."

Another look out the window told her it was near the time when she should be making her way to the king's study. Leaving with a determined air about her, she coolly walked down the corridors, trying to put her emotionless mask in place. It would not do to lose her temper twice in one day, especially with Ricard.

_Remember, there hasn't been a suitor yet you haven't been able to discourage. No sane man would take a shrewish harridan for a wife, let alone take her for his queen. _She reminded herself, making sure to keep her movements fluid and graceful. If she were going to look and speak like a true princess, she supposed she might as well move like one. And if it just happened to slow her gait from its usual pace, what of it? She was in no hurry.

_If this meeting is concerning marriage, do not forget that you can find a way to sever whatever agreement he has or has yet to make. _

_For until you have spoken the vows binding you to a man as his wife, Ricard has yet to win the war, and you have hope._

… … …

Jareth fought a yawn off as he sat at in his study, reading letter after letter of invitations, treaty propositions, and inquiries concerning trade between his kingdom and others. _Trade?_ He thought with incredulous amusement. _**Trade!?** Has the sprite king gone mad? I reign over a kingdom of goblins for pity's sake; all they do is snatch babes from cradles, drink disgusting ale, and torment anything and everything they come into contact with. What in the names of all the gods that ever were does he think they produce that would be suitable for trade? Or what interest the goblins would have in anything the sprites could produce? The goblins can make whatever it is they need, and myself or the Labyrinth can provide for them whatever they themselves cannot produce. And don't the sprites live entirely off their land?_

_Then again, does not the old king have a lovely little daughter of marriageable age?_ He searched his memory, and did recall something of a sprite princess being mentioned to him by his mother. He realized why King Mavryn was now inquiring about the exchanging of goods between their kingdoms. The aging sprite wasn't interested in trade; he was interested in wedding his daughter to the future King of the Fae.

Sighing, he set the missive aside and examined the next one. Usually being the Goblin King was a relatively easy. His subjects and kingdom were in a constant state of self-sustaining chaos, and any problems that arose from either of the two could usually be resolved with a few swift kicks or a bit of magic. He rarely ever had to bother with all of the fuss that went into the running of most kingdoms, likely do to the fact most of his loud, unruly subjects had difficulty understanding that the numbers occurring after "ten" were _not_ "oneteen, twoteen, threeteen," and so forth.

But ever since his damned parents had begun meddling in his affairs and _requesting _that he take a bride before taking his rightful throne, he suddenly now had many more duties to perform as the king of the goblins. Welcomes for visits were now being extended from numerous kingdoms, as well as from dozens of fae lords and ladies. Jareth rolled his eyes. It escaped him as to why the fae fathers were issuing him thinly veiled invitations to court their pretty daughters; fae women were given the decision to select a spouse for themselves.

Then again, he would be more likely to accept if the missive was sent by a grown lord, as opposed to a young lady.

Breaking the seal without taking notice of the emblem engraved in it, he then unfolded the strange letter in his hand and set about reading it. Jareth's eyes widened and his brows rose at the carefully written words. He looked back to the insignia embedded in the wax seal, then to the message again. A mortal king, one who was renowned for his loathing of demons, was welcoming him to his kingdom to court and possibly negotiate a marriage betrothal concerning his equally mortal daughter?

_A human? For a wife? _He lifted two fingers and gently tapped them against his lips in thought while his thumb brushed his chin, pondering over the contents of the missive. The idea held some appeal. He would be gaining a new ally, although it would only be for the fae; the goblins allied themselves with no one, and obeyed none but their acting monarch. He needn't worry about his parents disapproving and disowning him for marrying a mortal woman; they would accept a three-eyed dwarf for his wife, they were so desperate for him to marry.

Still, he disliked the kingdom that the offer of courtship had extended from, and its king even less so. The kingdom had severed any and all ties to the demon lands and their rulers ages ago, choosing to not forgive them for the changelings and the spoiled crops and the enchanting and ensnaring of their countrymen.

Many of the demon races were cruel by nature, and unless wars wished to be started, said cruelty was usually best exercised on those without a demon lord's protection and the necessary means to retaliate.

_But gods, I don't want that ass to be my father by law. And I've never liked the mortals who hail from his nation; far too many prejudices for my taste, and I've no reason to think the bastard's daughter will be different._ His lip was curling as he reread the letter before preparing to toss it away, when he recalled something that made him pause.

"Well," he amended his mental statement after a moment, fond little smirk on his lips. "I also have no reason to think ill of her, either. Then entire country cannot share his view of demons, can they?"

Setting the letter down and replacing it with a quill crafted of several owl feathers, Jareth brushed a pile of unopened letters away to reveal a few sheets of dark cream parchment. Dipping the quill into a sparkling black inkwell shaped like a cauldron, he began the tedious task of physically writing a reply of acceptance. Had this transaction been between two demons, Jareth would have simply would have used magic to send an instantaneous response, with no written message needed. But at least his answer would reach the king in a timely manner, thanks to Jareth's magic.

Carefully folding the parchment, he held it in place with one hand whilst the other sought the small container beside his inkwell that contained molten wax that wouldn't solidify until used, and after pouring some where the edge of the parchment met the folds, he lifted an oddly shaped pendant with a small design engraved into it from around his neck, and pressed it into the rapidly cooling wax.

"After all, it can do no harm to meet the girl. And it'll give me temporary respite from Mother and Father's hounding" he spoke pleasantly to his empty office after sending the letter on its way, absently rolling a crystal around his wrist and hand as he leaned back in his chair, mind not on some unknown princess, but instead a mortal with gleaming green eyes and a temper to rival any fae's.

Worry and some other emotion he would _not_ acknowledge or deign with a name clawed at his mind, but he brushed it aside. Precious Sarah was an intelligent girl; should any...troubles...arise, no doubt she would do nothing to place either of them in difficult situations.

"She would make an lovely queen," he murmured, before shaking his head and scoffing at himself. What was he doing, thinking things like that? Perhaps his parents' mutterings were getting to him, along with the fact that he hadn't had any female company for some time.

Or maybe all he needed was a flagon or two of wine to clear his mind before his nighttime tryst with Sarah.

"Hah." he cackled throatily as he sauntered out of his study to his wine cellars. He could have sent a servant to fetch it, but he enjoyed perusing the racks of bottles in search for the perfect one. _"Tryst._ Make us sound like lovers, why don't I?"

… … …

_I'm so anxious my palms are damp,_ Sarah noted bemusedly as she lightly rapped her knuckles on her father's study door. _Well there goes my facade of imperturbability._ She thought crossly.

"Enter." Ricard's muffled voice called to her, so with a straightening of her spine and shoulders she pushed the door open, and gently closed it behind her upon entering the chamber. She dropped into one of simplest curtsies she knew, not to disrespect him with her lack of extravagance, but because she knew it to be one of the most pleasing to the eye and would compliment the lack of volume in her skirts and enhance the way they gracefully fell around her legs.

"My king." she said, her voice soft from nerves. She hated acting so timid, but Ricard's attitude had severely shaken her. Even now, there was a affable air to his countenance, although it was not as intense as it had been at the morning meal. Unfurling from gesture of submission, she approached him, and stood before him with her hands clasped loosely in front of her.

"Ah, Sarah. You're a tad early, but given if what I heard about the exchange between yourself and Uris is true, I cannot say I'm surprised." He gave her a small, disapproving frown. "I must ask that you not harass the men, princess. Especially those who choose to indulge you in your foolish desires. It reflects badly upon my ability to rear and control my own children."

_You do not control me!_ Sarah railed in her mind, but her face shown nothing but tranquility. Her hands didn't even flex with the urge she felt to clench them, nor did her posture stiffen. _You place restrictions on me yes, but you delude yourself if you think you hold any power over my thoughts!_

"I apologize," Gods, could those words be any more difficult to say? "It was not my intention to cast ill-light upon you."

"Hm. Perhaps it wasn't." He agreed absently, apparently contented with that mild chiding. She struggled with controlling her expression, the desire to gape like a fish was so strong. That was it? No threats to strip her of her hard-won privileges, or even to ban her from them for a few weeks?

_Oh dear gods...Has father gone mad? Should I fetch a physician or a healer?_ She wondered. Surely the man sitting in front of her was not her father? She made a quick study of his appearance. No, she saw, those were her father's muddy brown eyes, and that was his unfortunately weak chin. How foolish of her; of _course_ this was her father.

"Sarah...daughter," the term fell from his lips clumsily from lack of use, but they both ignored that. Sarah was too preoccupied with trying to not fret, and the king seemed to be searching for words. "I understand that our relationship with one another is not a _close_ or _amiable_ one, and that it will in all likelihood never improve...but I wish to say that despite of what your obstinate mind may think, I do not want to see you unhappy or harmed. Do you understand that?" he asked sincerely, eyes not on her, but on his large hands, which sat folded on his desk.

"I, um, understand, my lord." She said, barely paying mind to the quiet words leaving her lips. What was this? An apology for past behavior? Would she have to deliver one as well? She wanted to shake her head to clear it, but felt too unsteady to attempt such a thing. She would hate to interrupt Ricard by falling to the floor in a swoon, be this conversation leading to good tidings or bad. He had aroused her curiosity, and it was now so great as to probably be able to kill ten cats nine times over again. Had she gone through a morning of emotional turmoil for naught?

"Good." the king nodded, a warm, miniscule smile on his face. "I'm glad you can at least see that I take no real enjoyment from our constant clashing. Hopefully that shall make what I am about to divulge easier to swallow." he murmured, more to himself than to her. Her blood turned frigid in her veins, contrasting with the feverish rhythm her heart was pounding to.

"A-and what is it you are revealing to me, my lord?" Damned stutter; no true monarch quailed with fear. They faced the obstacles with grace and aplomb, no matter how daunting they were.

Or, so her etiquette instructors had taught her, but she had never bothered to heed their teachings. They had reminded her too much of Ricard, and their tutelage smacked of the Brrisian king's ideals.

Sighing, her father studied her, as one would when watching a scene they know shall end gruesomely.

_The news must be bad, it must be very bad indeed...for me, at least._

"Daughter," he began cautiously—and again with that familial term! "the reason I turned away the suitors we were previously expecting, was because their presence would have been...redundant...and they were no longer needed."

_Redundant?_ Sarah felt her eyes go wide as her breath caught in her throat, and stuck there, making speaking impossible. The king continued, though not heedless of her inner plight.

"However, those men were not rendered unnecessary for the reason you're thinking. In fact," he coughed once, "You could say we are awaiting the arrival of another set of admirers."

_Another set? So I am not already betrothed? Then what in the hell is he getting at then?_ Her thoughts were too confused for her liking, and her fear had been replaced with anger. She wanted answers, damn it to the pits, and she wanted them _now._ "Father." she growled, narrowing her eyes at him, "Cease stalling and come out with it. If I am not promised to someone, why trade in the previous men for others? One prince cannot be so different from another in your mind."

"Yes, Sarah, the differences between the previous suers were insignificant," Ricard agreed with a scowl, his patience and care evaporating in face of her rudeness, and words caustic with vitriol. "But human princes differ greatly from demon monarchs, my dear princess."

Sarah felt her face go slack as her mind came to a halt, unable to comprehend what had just been said.

_Demon monarchs?_

* * *

**DUN DUN DUUUUUNNNNNNN...Evil Cliff Hanger!**

**I know, I know, I know, I left a ton of questions unanswered and technically didn't reveal Ricard's plan like I promised, but hey, imagine how juicy the next chapter's gonna be? So in other words...**

**Please don't hate me, and tune into next week's episode of "A Princess and a Demon!"**

**Er, well, it probably won't be up by next week, but I'm going to do my best to get chapter number six out quickly, okay duckies?**

**And I still can't remember what it is I'm forgetting...huh...**

**Also, and I'm probably just asking for trouble considering the lot of you hate me for ending on a cliff hanger, but would it be too much to ask for some feedback? I wrote some intense scenes in this story, and as I've stated before, critiquing of my writing ability is what I started posting for, so some feedback on how I did on those would be nice. And apparently I'm just avaricious when it comes to reviews despite getting over 100 of them; so sue me. :p**


	6. A Grievous Revelation

**Short A/N + Disclaimer: If I owned Labyrinth, there would have been a ROMANTIC happy ever after. Not one where the girl wins the baby and they call that a happy ending.**

**But anyways, I'll put the major A/N's at the end of the chap (which I would very much like you to read) mostly cuz I feel bad 'bout the whole cliff-hanger-slow-update thing and want the story to flow smoother.**

**Big, huge thanks to Kaytori, my beta, who helps my writing not suck in certain places and also helps me get my butt in gear when it comes to updating.**

**Also, you might want to thank Person3162012 for her diligence in prompting me for a faster update, while I thank her for being such a devoted fan to A Princess and a Demon. **

**Now on with the show already!**

* * *

_Demon monarchs?_

Sarah stared slack-jawed at Ricard in a mute stupor, any and all thoughts she'd had now gone, deafened by the continuous echoing of his words in her mind. The king sat at his desk scowling at her, obviously displeased that his attempt at patience and kindness had done nothing to sweeten her disposition or ease the delivering of his news. In fact, if the way her face and lips had turned to pale, sickly shades of their natural coloring, it had most certainly had the _opposite_ effect on her.

_Demon monarchs? Did he say __**demon monarchs?**__ No, that isn't...the very idea...Impossible. Inconceivable. Father couldn't have meant demon monarchs, he despises anything inhuman. That's why he had been hoping to find me a husband whose kingdom had already struck a truce with demon kind...so as to save him from having to do so himself...I must have misheard him. Yes, that's what happened. I simply just heard him wrong._

_Please oh gods, let me have heard wrong..._

Ricard's glare intensified, and the sneer his mouth had formed furiously spat vitriol at her. "Oh come now Sarah and cease gaping at me; it spoils your pretty face."

His speaking broke whatever spell those unimaginable words had cast over her, and she released an unsteady breath she hadn't realized she'd held. She blinked a few times to center herself and gather her wits, and shook her head at her father to convey her confusion.

"Did you say _demon monarchs?"_ Sarah asked quietly, her voice unfortunately betraying any attempt of self-containment. This was naught but a misunderstanding, and showing her father how easily she could be riled with the uttering of certain words would do her no good in the future. He already knew that Toby, Petal, and her few freedoms were here weaknesses; why make it plain to him that marriage was another fear of hers? He thought she was only being willful and refusing to marry simply to defy him, and Sarah had never corrected his conceited assumption.

_If he knew how terrifying the thought of sharing my mother's fate was to me, he would have exploited it at every opportunity._ She thought ruefully, memories of all the things Ricard could have coerced her into had he known that she not only despised marriage and what it stood for, but _feared_ it, briefly passing through her mind.

"Yes, my dear," her father replied irritably, her attention returning to him and his unhappy expression. "You heard me right."

_What does he mean, I heard him right? That would mean...he said we were expecting another set of...But that..._Her eyes were open so wide they were straining, but she couldn't see anything through the dark, resinous fog that had placed itself across her vision. For a frightening moment, the ability to breathe was lost to her, until finally she was able to exhale a ragged breath that sounded much like a harsh sob.

"F-father...you can't mean..." her choked, faltering voice trialed off. She couldn't finish that horrible thought in head, let alone aloud. Her stomach was dangerously unsteady, and the urge to retch was strong.

_No, no Sarah._ She told herself to try and quell her inner panicking. _Don't be hasty; father would be furious if you accused him of such an act. Just make him explain, and then you can rail at him for causing you such anguish with that grave misunderstanding._

"I mean to say," she corrected in a calmer—but not _steadier,_ much to her chagrin—voice. "Please explain." Although she still felt ill, she was at least better able to hide the tremors that had been coursing through her hands, and change the terrified expression on her face to one of mild apprehension. She might have been lax in exercising restraint when it came to her temper, but she would have sooner swallowed a toad then let her father know his words could discomfort her. It was like rubbing fine white salt into an already painful wound; insult added to injury. She was already going to have to nurse her pride for fumbling like a dolt in front of him, and she had no desire to further harm that part of her.

"Explain, Sarah? You wish me to explain?" Vexation colored his tone and marred his face, but her small, single nod seemed to cause his exasperation to be replaced by weariness. Sighing gustily, Ricard ran a hand over his brow and pinched the bridge of his nose as if his head were aching. When he started speaking, he stayed in the position, and kept his eyes closed. "Ask me your questions, child, and I'll answer them. _That_ shall be your explanation."

Sarah grit her teeth at the king's countering, but grudgingly admitted to understanding his reasoning. In the past, when being delivered upsetting news, she had been prone to interrupting the messengers by shooting angry little barbs at them, and then storming off in a fit of pique once her patience had reached its limit. By only giving her information bit by bit, Ricard deferred the inevitable tempest Sarah would undoubtedly bring down on him.

Irritated at the fact that she would now have to be clever in her wording, she carefully considered the phrasing of her first question before voicing it. "My king, please take no offense at my words for I mean none...But the suitors due to arrive...did you mean to say that they are _demons?"_

"Aye," Ricard answered stoically after long, heavy moment. His hand fell limply away from his face and he opened his eyes to squarely return her gaze. "I did."

"But that—_isn't possible!"_ she cried in astounded dismay—though mayhap _wailed_ would have more accurately described the sound that came from her throat—shaking her head so viciously that her mother's circlet was nearly knocked from its place of honor on her brow. "You _loathe_ demons! You _despise_ them! You would sooner see me dead than wed to one of _them._ How can you—Have you gone _mad,_ father!?"

"No Sarah, my decision was not made out of madness." his voice was harder than a sword's blade, and yet not a bit of the anger she knew he must be feeling colored his tone. "Indeed, this is perhaps the wisest decision I have made concerning you and Brrisa. You will choose a husband from the demons I have invited here, you will wed him, and you will bring peace and prosperity to your kingdom. Pray tell, Sarah, wherein that lies madness? I know of several human kingdoms which have sealed covenants of peace with human-demon marriages, and suffered naught at all for it. In fact, their suffering was _ended,_ as they were no longer plagued by demon trickery and magic.."

She couldn't speak for a moment, ire and astonishment and _fear_ were holding her tongue, but soon enough she was shrieking at him, each screamed word tearing at her throat. Her hands began to move and wave about as she ranted, and she was too incensed to try and still them. "B-but father, they are _demons!_ Creatures you have called innumerable ill and insulting epithets, cursed and damned simply for existing, and _outright refused _time and time again when asked to consider forming an alliance! And now you not only invite demons to the kingdom, but expect me to choose my future _lord and husband from them?"_ Sarah had to pause, both to breathe and to give her now-aching throat a rest, and Ricard decided to speak before she could begin again.

"I will not deny my past opinions of demon-kind, nor will I say that my opinions have changed in the slightest." Ricard sighed, and the weariness that had seemed to weigh so heavily on him reappeared, making the already aging king appear even more withered and worn. "I detest having to give my daughter to some demon-king, truly I do, but being as you refuse to marry and Brrisa and her people have been suffering at the hands of demons for years, I find myself believing this to be the best, if only, solution."

The _best_ solution? He truly believed that making her marry a demon was for the _best?_ True, the demons' tricks were beginning to wear on the kingdom, but things could not be as dire as he was painting them to be. And granted, the capricious and questionably-scrupulous Jareth had shown her that not all demons wished humans naught but ill-will, but he wasn't royalty, if he was to be believed. And even had he not been of lowly birth like he claimed, he could be the one exception that deviated from social norms, like herself.

But what was she thinking? Marriage, to human, demon, or bleeding _animal,_ was not possible, not for her. She would never allow herself to let it be; not after witnessing all it had done to her mother.

Resolved to—for the sake of her own sanity, as she feared focusing on it would prove harmful to her state of mind—recover from the shock and move past the fact that her father had not only seemed to let go of his still-strong hatred for demons, but was willing to give her to one as _wife_, she suddenly crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin. After placing the haughtiest, most derisive sneer she could produce on her face, she was the picture of scornful defiance.

"You may invite all the bloody demon-kings and princes you like, _father,_ but do not think I shall play the part of the dutiful princess you have cast me in," she threatened warningly, nearly growling the words out. "For I will do as I've always done when you've brought suitors to the castle. I've said time and time again that I'll never aid you in your endeavor to see me wed, and I see no reason to do so now simply because you have changed the species of my suitors. You can strike a truce with one of them with or without a marriage, so I suggest that during their _short-lived_ stays you attempt to do so, or else let your work be wasted."

Ricard studied her, head tilted ever so slightly, before an awful little smile crept slowly over his lips.

"Why dearest daughter; you are acting under the impression that you _won't_ be selecting a husband from the demons I've called here."

She quirked a sarcastic brow at him, not taking notice of his oleaginous tone, arrogant now that she believed herself the victor of this battle. Gods, but she had been nearly _petrified_ with fear at the first thought of demon suitors. Now she felt like slapping herself for her stupidity. "Only because I know I won't be. I've never chosen before, and I shan't do so now."

Her father seemed unperturbed at her declaration, and raised his own brow at her. Or, tried to, at least. Ricard was one of the unlucky few incapable of forming that expression. "True, you haven't chosen in the past, but you see sweetling, this time I am _extremely_ confident that you will."

"Oh, and what exactly affords you this confidence, pray tell?" she asked sourly, annoyed by his use of the term of endearment. It was what he had called her, when she was young, before Belinda's inability to give him a healthy son stole his affection from them both. She had been four, perhaps, when he had ceased calling her "sweetling" and "darling girl" with anything but bitterness in his voice? Or had she reached her fifth winter by then?

"How good of you to ask." Ricard said with an easy smile that was so abysmally cold it froze her to the core. He lent forward on the desk, his eyes boring into her own.

"Sarah," his tone was what she had called the "kingly voice" as a child, for he only used it when addressing his court or speaking to his subjects. "You _will_ choose a husband this time, and you _will_ marry him, the question is simply whether or not you shall be marrying a man—or demon, rather—that you have selected yourself, or that _I_ have selected _for_ you." he smirked at her. "And I can promise you, you will not like my choice princess. Not all demons possess otherworldly beauty as the fae and the elven races do. And as fate would have it, a few excellent examples of such races are due to arrive here. Is that not strange?"

Her belly rolled until she thought she'd wretch, imagining what sort of grotesque creatures her father had called to the castle, but she swallowed the bile climbing up her throat and croaked back an answer. "That, that would not work. I would still need to speak the pledge of marriage before a priest, and I wouldn't. You couldn't make me."

"Oh yes I could, and I most certainly will!" Ricard snarled, eyes narrowed and lips twisted as he stood to his feet, coming around the desk to stand before her. It would seem his already limited patience had reached its end, she noted. "This time, Sarah, there will be consequences for your willfulness! And they will _not _be as mild as the punishments I have given you in the past."

Ricard's voice lowered as he continued, and his face came closer still to her own. With him towering over her and speaking to her as he was, this was one of the few times Sarah was well and truly terrified of her father. Not of the power he held over her, but of _him._

_Is he going to strike me?_ She wondered. _He looks as if there is nothing he would like better now than to shake me 'till my teeth rattled._

"If it comes to me arranging a marriage for you, and you attempt to refuse, you will _never_ see Tobias again." his voice softened, and Sarah stared in shocked horror as he kept speaking. "I will send you far from here, to our castle in the north. You would be confined to a single tower, never to leave the chamber. Your only company would be that of the servants sent with you, and they would say as little as possible to you. You would have no books, no writing materials, nor even a damned needle and thread to sew with. You would be clothed, you would be fed, but that is all."

Sarah shut her eyes tight as tears formed in them, to try and halt their fall, but also to try and close out her father's horrible threats. She would go mad in that tower; she knew this. The isolation would drive her to it. And gods, to never see Toby...it was too much to bear.

"No, don't—" Sarah's whisper was choked with tears, but Ricard interrupted her, not done with his threat.

"But that is not all, princess." he said cruelly, "Toby would be told you had abandoned him; run off in the night because you could not tolerate being here with us. With _him._ I know that boy adores you; imagine how devastated he will be, to hear his beloved sister cared not for him and stole away without so much as a goodbye, or warning. And trust you me Sarah, you would _not_ be given the opportunity to warn him."

She was gasping for breath now, and pressed a hand to her mouth to try and quiet the sound of it. "Gods, father, _please..."_ her plea trailed off as more sobs came, distraught at the thought of the agony Toby would feel if he thought she had willingly left him, without even bothering to explain why first.

"Oh, do not worry child, your imprisonment would not be permanent." the bastard said on.

_Oh gods above and below, what more can there be?_ She cried out in her mind, too consumed with trying to breathe through her sobs to speak.

"Eventually, I think, your solitude would help you to think a bit more clearly, and grant you wisdom that otherwise eludes you, and you would see how conceding to me and my wishes is your lot and duty in life." he paused, and suddenly hands gripped her upper arms painfully, startling her into opening her eyes. Ricard's face was terrible as it stared down into hers, it was so contorted with rage. "And when that time comes, you will be wed to the most twisted, grotesque, and merciless demon I can find, and neither he nor I will ever allow you to see Toby or Brrisa again." he had begun to shake her as he spoke, not enough to damage her really, but her head wobbled painfully on her neck with each jarring shake. Her arms would bear the marks of his anger, Sarah knew, and the muscles in her shoulders would be sore the rest of the day from his harsh treatment.

Then, ever so gently, one of his hands left her arm to cradle her face, his smooth-skinned thumb tenderly stroking her cheek, brushing away her still-falling tears.

"But neither of us wish for that to happen, do we?" he asked softly, his opposite hand coming up to cup the other side of her face, his grip still unfailingly soft.

Eyes closing again, so demoralized and miserable it took all her remaining strength to not drop to the floor in a lachrymose heap, she shook her head in the negative. She would have answered aloud, but she couldn't calm her breathing enough to make speech possible.

"I did not think so," Ricard said, his voice as gentle as his grip now was and so patient one would have thought her touched. "So, you shall marry one of the demons I have called here, won't you? Without any fight or fuss?"

Unable to see any other option besides that of surrender, Sarah, with her eyes still closed, sealed her doom with a small, single nod. She couldn't answer him aloud; the shattering of her heart stopped any words from forming on her tongue.

"Give me your word, Sarah." Ricard prodded.

Biting her lip until she thought it'd bleed, she breathed several times through her nose and repeatedly swallowed, faintly shuddering with the effort to speak. "You have it." she whispered eventually managed, the words garbled slightly by her tears.

"Good." he said soothingly, now caressing her hair with one hand and her cheek with the other. "There now, darling. No need to weep. All will be well, you will see."

Pressing a brief kiss to her forehead that Sarah hadn't the energy to recoil from, he stepped away from her.

"I have a meeting with Irena and the castle staff on the preparations that must be made for our guests. Some requested to be housed in the castle, others merely asked for permission to camp on our grounds. Either way, the staff and guards must be made aware so as to not cause problems." she heard his footfalls as he walked away, towards the door of the study. "I suggest you retire to your rooms, princess. You seem to be feeling a bit distressed at the moment."

The moment the door closed behind her wretched father, was the moment that Sarah's legs finally failed her. Holding her head in her hands, she collapsed on the hard stone floor in doubled-over heap, crying out at the bitter inequity in the world.

… … …

An immeasurable length of time later, Sarah lay atop her coverlet on her bed, her face sticky with the remnants of her tears and her breathing finally even once again. Her head and chest ached from all the sobbing she had been done, her eyes felt rough and dry in their sockets, and her limbs felt weaker than those a newborn kitten.

_He's done it. He's won._ She thought hollowly. _I've lost._

"I've failed." she whispered, then louder again, _"I've failed."_

How she had arrived at her chambers she wasn't entirely sure, but she had vague memories of Uris and Irena finding her in her father's study, rocking on the floor as she cried, and leading her back to her quarters. They had spoken to her, she was positive of this, but their banal platitudes hadn't been able to reach her mind past her grief. She just knew that they had been as kind as they were capable of being, that was all. She felt an empty smirk stretch her lips.

_They must now know; that can be the only explanation for their kindness._

However much the guard the and the queen had wanted to see her married, they were both prejudiced against demons, and must have believed her fate to be one's wife worse than that of death.

_A bit of a cold comfort, but at least I am not entirely without sympathizers. Yet I must say, Irena is likely only upset I am not to wed Prince Rutherford; she did like him so._

Despite not believing herself to have any tears left, she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt more yet forming in her aching eyes.

_I wish I has just picked one of the louts father first brought to the castle,_ she frowned, disliking that thought. Even knowing then that Ricard would do this, Sarah knew she still wouldn't have chosen a husband and docilely married like the obedient princess she wasn't. She would have been too pertinacious, too proud, to have conceded like that.

_I wish Mother had not died._ She frowned again. No, that was a useless wish too. Her mother, for all her spirit, had not shared Sarah's opinions on marriage. Belinda would have, albeit in a kinder fashion than that of Irena and Ricard, pushed her to marry just as her stepmother and father did.

A memory, one of the more pleasant ones from Sarah's childhood after the death of her mother, came to her mind, making her smile as a tear leaked from her eye.

_I wish Prince Tavin had not died._

Prince Tavin had been, once upon a time, Sarah's betrothed. Her father had sent emissaries to Alladel, his kingdom, when she had been seven, with the proposal that the then twenty-year-old prince take her for wife upon reaching fifteen, the marriageable age. Seeing the wisdom of the union, how beneficial it would be for their countries, and also beginning to feel the pressures placed on monarchs to sire heirs, Tavin agreed to travel to Brrisa to negotiate terms.

It had taken him but three days after arriving to accept Ricard's proposal, assent to a brideprice and dowry, and to sign the covenants.

Tavin had been very kind to Sarah, she remembered fondly. Kinder than many men she knew would have been, considering she had been but a small, silly child, and wouldn't have been his wife for another eight years. They would have simply returned home and enjoyed their remaining years of unmarried life.

Yet Tavin hadn't; he had chosen to stay and befriend the child that was his future bride.

He had showered her with lavish gifts, and had devoted hours upon hours of undivided attention to her. The solitary pearl she wore even now, she thought as she pulled it from beneath her gown to study it, was one of his presents. Petal had been one too, when she had just been a tiny yearling. Her smile grew as she recalled the terms of endearment he had used with her. "My little love" had been his favorite, and had always been uttered in a lightly teasing and ever so sweet voice.

Tavin had even consoled her on the death of her mother, back when the wound had still been fresh, and had done nearly all in his power to draw her from her mourning and get her to laugh. Sarah grinned at one instance in particular; at one of the numerous balls and banquets her father had thrown in honor of the betrothal, Tavin had insisted on sharing every dance with little Sarah-despite all of the pretty ladies vying for the handsome prince's attention-when he had spied her hiding in a corner.

"_You are my future wife and queen,"_ he had teased as he tapped her nose with a fingertip when she questioned him, _"Who else am I to dance with but with you, my little love?"_

The smile that had been gracing her face vanished as she thought of his demise, taking with it the joy that had suffused through as she reminisced. While journeying home to Alladel after a three-month stay in Brrisa, Tavin had fallen from his damned horse crossing a perilous river, and had drowned in its rapid currents as he was washed away.

She had worn naught but dark, solemn gowns of grief for the next two years; one for her mother and one for dear Tavin, and had grieved long and hard for his death, while her father had just grieved over the fact that he would have to begin anew in his search of a husband for her.

"Oh Tavin," she whispered ruefully, sitting upright and smoothing her mussed hair back. She wondered for a vague moment where her circlet had gotten to, before she remembered ripping it from her hair and throwing it across the room during her bawling tantrum. "Why couldn't you have lived? Marriage to you would not have been so awful, I think."

She stood to her feet, sighing to herself as she looked at her window for an indication of the time, and grimaced. Had she truly been lying abed for near four hours, and bawling for over two of them? Little wonder her head felt as if it were overstuffed with cotton, and her eyes itched so painfully.

_I don't believe I've cried so much since Mother or Tavin's deaths. _Sarah thought with distaste, ashamed at herself for behaving like a small, weak child.

_This how Ricard wants me,_ she thought viciously, staring at the large wet spot on her blankets where her head had laid, _cowed and weak. It is what he always wanted from me, my complete and utter submission._

Gathering strength from unknown depths within herself, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, moving her eyes to the leggings and tunic on the floor that the laundress had never collected. Deciding then and there that she could not bear to be in her rooms or in her rumpled gown for even one more moment, she started pulling loose the laces on the dress.

"You may have won won my subjugation in this matter, dearest father," she murmured as she let the dress fall, and walked to the earlier discarded garments to dawn them again. "But you have also guaranteed my defiance in all other things."

For now what would he care if she attired herself to her own simple-yet-comely clothing tastes, if she went riding at her leisure instead of his? She had _finally _agreed to marry. Granted it had been under great coercion, she thought with a shudder as she recalled Ricard's dreadful threats, but she had given her bloody word, and she would never on her life allow Ricard to hurt Toby in such a way...

Sarah winced as her heart wrenched in her breast at the thought of her dear little brother. He would be upset to hear of her impending betrothal and eventual marriage, as it would mean her leaving him, but she knew he would eventually recover, after she made good on the promises she knew she'd make to write him hundreds of letters and visit whenever was possible.

But he would never recover from the pain her false abandonment would inflict; she knew. Especially not, considering Irena and their father would do all they could to further poison his young mind against his absent, exiled sister whilst she rotted in some tower until she acquiesced to her mad father's demands. And she had the suspicion that Ricard's threat of ensuring she was never given the opportunity to warn Toby of the king's plans was not an idle one. The siblings were never truly ever alone; Toby's guards were always within hearing distance, if not in visual sight. And being as it was their duty to serve their king, she thought it would be very easy for Ricard to order the men to monitor her conversations with her brother.

"So," she said calmly as she collected herself and her wits, running her hands through her thick hair in an attempt to tame it as she searched the room for her boots. "I'll do as I please when not entertaining that bastard's demonic suitors, and take my time in selecting my h-husband." for a moment she struggled on the word, despising its taste, but forced herself to say it anyway.

Spotting them hidden half-under the bed when she decided to glance downward, she sat on the bed and pulled them on, continuing her monologue to herself.

"I'll need time to make my decision, what with trying to decide which of the monsters shall eat me, which shall abuse me, and which I can stomach the thought of sharing a marriage bed with." she muttered ungraciously, not caring that she herself was being petty and pernicious; traits she was typically disgusted by.

Rising to her booted-feet in a huff, she began to twist her hair in the loosest, fastest plait that she could, walking to her desk in search of something to hold it. Smiling faintly at the sight of the sloppy braid, and how it would set her stepmother's teeth on edge should she catch sight of it, she secured the end and began to coil the rope of hair behind her head, pinning it in place with a plain brass hair ornament.

Ealorna had once coiffed Sarah's hair like this, to show her the deviations in hairstyles in the different regions of the kingdom, as well as completely foreign styles from other countries that the girls had seen at balls and banquets on the heads of visiting dignitaries. This had been one of the simpler ones, although she knew that had her girlhood friend been present, she would have clucked her tongue at Sarah's slightly tangled handiwork and would have insisted on redoing it herself.

Taking a brief study of her reflection in the mirror, Sarah smiled at the glint of the pearl's chain peeking through the neck of her tunic, and gently placed Tavin's gift above her clothing, not able to keep it covered after thinking of its giver.

"I miss you, Tavin." she said wistfully, but not sadly. "But at least I still have Petal. And Toby."

She grinned at the glass before turning away, chuckling quietly. "And how could I forget dear Jareth?" she murmured sarcastically, heading to her chamber door, and from there, to the stables.

_Perhaps he may prove a good distraction in these weeks to come, before my suitors arrive._ She thought, believing that her visits with him would be impossible once the demon monarchs arrived. Perhaps she could question him, about other demons, to help prepare herself for their arrival? But what if she gave herself away? She bit her lip as she fretted. Jareth did not seem to be the magnanimous kind-had he not said so yesterday?-so how would he react to discovering her treachery?

Rubbing at her brow, she sighed wearily for what felt like the thousandth time that day, now apprehensive at the idea of meeting Jareth now that she was aware of the species of her soon-to-be-suers. Not exactly because she was frightened of the wicked fae himself, per say, but because, if the day had gone so poorly already, before noon, what other tragedy could strike in the hours that remained?

* * *

**Long A/N: Okay, now I can offer up my deepest, sincerest apologies on not updating in a timely manner, as well as my excuses.**

**Battery broke on my laptop and I had to wait for a replacement, and also I'm graduating high school in two, count 'em TWO weeks, and life is a little hectic right now. Mostly because;**

**A) I attend online school, and being as that allows me to make my own hours I have a tendency to do nothing but homework because I feel and odd sense of guilt when I'm not, **

**B) Attending online school means that I can take more classes than I normally would be able to at a regular school, and I took full advantage of that ability.**

**And C) The whole more-classes-than-normal-on-my-plate-thing made it so that despite my only technically being a junior as opposed to a senior, I meet the credit-requirements of a graduating senior and can therefore graduate a year early. Yes, yes, you read right, a YEAR early. Please contain your shock.**

**So, as you can imagine, I've been a mite busy dealing with all things scholarly and waiting on the stupid USPS mail delivery service and whateves.**

**Anyways, moving on, I have some awesome news! **

**The amazingly talented fellow fanfic-writer/artist meatpuppet1 made an INCREDIBLE fanart based on the snake-attack scene back in the first chapter of the fic! How cool is that?**

**You can find it on deviantArt by using the ****link in my profile. (I'm as close to positive as can be that the link works.) I heavily encourage you to go check it out; it's really flipping good.**

**And now here comes the part where I beg on my knees, hands clasped before me, for you to review. I'm writing this for feedback on my writing ability, let me remind you. That doesn't mean all I want is compliments (although gosh do I like those) but I also want to know what I should work on, and also why I should work on it. **

**One last thing; a few of you have mentioned how you always learn a new word whenever I update, and I'm pretty sure you all just learned one now (oleaginous ring any bells?), and have also pointed out in reviews words that you believe to be typos/misspellings because their weird and look like they could be another word just spelled wrong. So, in accordance with this, would you all like me to start putting little definitions in the A/N's of what those ten-dollar or just plain strange words mean so that you don't have to go Google them or something?**

**A family member of mine who reads this fic suggested this, as she had to keep asking me what some of the words meant and thought that this might be helpful. **

**Anyways, let me know, and hope you liked the chapter!**

**Read ya later lovelies!**


	7. An Unwelcome Visitor

**A/N + Disclaimer: For the last dang time; it!ain't!mine!**

**Hello all, welcome back to another episode of a "A Princess and a Demon!" Or as I've come to abbreviate it on my computer, APAD. **

**Once again, thank you for your continued support of this story, and for being such awesome fans. And for all the congrats and props I got for graduating; that was sweet of you all, thank you. :)**

**Now, I'll apologize for the wait, blame it on finally being able to enjoy free time without the guilt of not doing homework instead, and say up-front that a new name was introduced in this chapter which might give some people a bit trouble in the pronunciation department. The name is Lysella, pronounced like lis-el-LA. Or lis-ell-UH, if that gives you a better idea.**

**Being as there were no strange words in this chapter that I think would need defining (and also because of how mixed of a reaction I got when I asked about adding in the definitions) there are none for this chap. Maybe next time though?**

_**Muchos gracias**_** to Kaytori, my beta, and once again to all you awesome people who decided to give this story a shot, and then kept up with it. Hugs and puppies for EVERYONE! XD**

**Oh, and one more thing; in a response to the review made by The Final Prayer; no, I don't have a previous version of this story posted. This is the only version of this story I've written. Maybe I just wrote something similar to that previous story? Although people have commented on how original this fic is, so that's a 'lil surprising. Anyways, hope your phone started working right again, and thank you for the kind words. They're appreciated. :)**

* * *

The trip to the royal stables from Sarah's chambers was a relatively short one, although it now seemed to be lasting an eternity.

It seemed as if every one of the servants employed by the crown was roaming the halls, arms loaded with some burden and tongues wagging with excited chatter. Tongues which stilled the moment they spied their princess walking down the corridors—for indeed it was hard for them gossip with their jaws on the floor—and then begun to whisper furiously in their companions' ears. Despite their hushed tones, Sarah was still able to catch some of their words before she ceased listening to their speakings, and attempted to make their voices nothing but a loud buzzing in the back of her mind.

Some of their staring eyes held pity, she saw when she risked a glance, while others held disgust and revulsion, and others she was sorrowful to note held naught but self-satisfaction at the fact that their icy shrew of a princess was finally being put in her place after her years of rebelling.

Keeping her eyes staring straight ahead of her so that she could no longer see the servants, she increased her pace and prayed to all the merciful gods she knew of that she would be away from the gossipmongers soon.

_I do believe by sundown all of Brrisa will know of this,_ she thought, and her thoughts wandered to one little gold-headed Brrisian in particular, who would no doubt be paying her a visit later tonight, when she returned home.

_How am I going to explain this to Toby without telling of Ricard's threats? He won't understand my sudden compliance; he's a bright boy, he knows that marriage is the last thing I would ever want. Do I lie and spin some tale of realizing my true duty and honor and beg of him to understand why I __must marry, or do I simply say that the time has come for me to wed, and that we both must accept it? The latter would be easier believed, and swallowed. If I tried the former, Toby would simply counter my argument by saying my duty was to stay with him, spoiled little princeling that he is. _Her lips twitched upwards for a fleeting second before reverting to the tense, tight position she had held them in since leaving her chambers.

Sarah considered going to Toby now, before he had the chance to hear the news from some indifferent mouth, but even her sisterly love couldn't sway her from her course. She hadn't the strength to face an ireful, tearful Toby. Not now, at least, she thought with a mental sigh. Not so soon after her confrontation with Ricard. Were she to speak with her brother now, in her still-overwrought state, she would only loose patience with the boy, and end up speaking in anger to him. Or worse, Sarah thought with a grimace; dissolve into yet another crying fit.

As she walked and did her best to disregard the gawking, gossiping servants and their whisperings, she counted the hours till sunset.

_Given the season and the current o'clock, I likely have perhaps four hours at most to wait before Jareth shall arrive at the river. Barring the happenings of any more unforeseen tragedies, of course._ She thought grimly, still smarting over Ricard's triumph and her own stupidity as to not _see it._ How could she not think that bastard capable of this? How could she have never thought he would think to exploit her love for Toby?

And most importantly, how could she not have seen how thin she was wearing his patience with her?

Sighing and cursing her folly as she continued it was blessedly not long before she reached a set of doors that led to the stables.

Exiting the castle and blinking at the afternoon sun, Sarah noticed with distaste that the training guards were just as agog as the foolish serving girls—only sans the inane giggling—and the glances they gave her were similar to the ones she had previously received.

_Damn it to the pits,_ she thought sourly,_ will I endure this until I leave Brrisa as a wife?_

"Princess!" The calling of her title made her halt but a few meager yards from her destination, and she scarcely stopped herself from releasing a suffering groan. She recognized Uris's voice, and had an ominous suspicion that the approaching footfalls she heard belonged to him. What could he want of her? Ricard _could not_ wish to speak with her. Not so shortly after their last conversation.

_Unless it is to reveal more sinister plots and forthcoming tragedies,_ a harshly sardonic voice that Sarah thought might resemble Jareth's—if he were to speak in his most barbarous and pessimistic manner, that is to say—sounded in her mind. Ignoring the more embittered side of her mind's utterances, she reluctantly turned to face Uris.

_Why is it,_Sarah wondered testily as he neared, _that it seems he is increasingly spending more time in mine own company as opposed to Toby's, in spite of his being the head-guard of the prince?_

"Princess," the guard repeated once he'd reached her, his eyes crinkled with concern as they bored into hers. Guilt for the things she had said to him this morning—gods, had it really only been that morning?—now racked her mind, and ate at her conscience. He really did care for her, and he was one of the few people that did.

Was it truly his fault that he just happened to be a cavalier half-wit, and that his caring for her suffered because of it? And perhaps she _should_ learn better control over her temper.

"What brought you from your rooms?" Uris continued, "I thought you might wish to be alone, considering..."

Hellfire, he had seen her crying, she remembered. Damn it, now he would think her nothing but a weak, weepy woman! If he already did not think that, that is to say.

"I wished to take Petal out." she stated, refusing to acknowledge the tears she'd shed before him and the reason for them, and also not wanting to allow him to finish his thought. "I have permission from the king to ride into the night, and sought to make use of it."

Uris's brow furrowed quizzically, and Sarah, believing that she knew the cause of his befuddlement, elaborated.

"I obtained it when I dined with him at this morning's meal." And as to whether or not the approval was still valid in Ricard's eyes mattered not to her; he had not vocally revoked it, and therefore it still stood.

"My lady princess," Uris began cautiously, but in truth Sarah was already partly irritated with him. Whoever said such an awkward, obsequious thing such as 'my lady princess' anyway? Either address her as lady or princess; not both, she thought. "Are you confident that the king has not reneged his blessing? Also, do you truly think it wise to ride at night, without an escort? Especially considering the..._shock_ you have been dealt." his eyes perused her form, a disapproving frown tugging at his mouth at he noticed her masculine attire. "And in such unseemly vestures?"

A smile threatened to emerge on her face, but she held it back. She had nearly forgotten the shock she would cause by wearing leggings and a tunic without the excuse of weapons training.

"The king hasn't said a word to me on the matter since breakfast, and I am capable of handling a horse in the dark, Uris." she told him, both her tone and expression reprimanding him. She was not going to grace his comment on her clothing with a reply, as she didn't wish to enter into a quarrel with him.

Still looking dubious, the guard nodded despite his obvious doubts, and Sarah guessed his sudden tolerance for her eccentricities had stemmed from his desire to do nothing that would upset her more than Ricard's revelation already had.

"Yes, my lady." he acquiesced with a weary sigh, though she clearly saw that he wished to argue. "However, mayhap a word with you, before you go? I wish to discuss something with you."

Nodding in agreement, tight ropes of anxiety began to coil and tighten in her belly, and her entire being suddenly felt hot and damp. What could Uris wish to speak with her about? Not her demonic suers; he would not think it his place.

So what could it be?

Tearing his eyes from hers, the guard ran a hand through the thick, brown hair possessed that fell to his broad shoulders. Constantly swinging a sword, Sarah assumed absently, even if only in training, must have kept him strong.

"Princess, about this morning..." Uris began, but paused, deliberated, and began again. "My lady, I am sorry to say, but after our argument earlier today—and also on your father's request—I have decided that we can no longer continue educating you in matters of combat. It is far too dangerous, unnecessary, and I am forced to admit, _foolish._"

His face pleading with her to understand, he placed a beseeching hand on her shoulder, and hurriedly spoke. "I know that now was not the best time to say this, but be said it must. Perhaps teaching you to evade attackers shall prove beneficial one day, in the most dire of circumstances, but I _cannot_ justify teaching you anything more." Uris shook his head, looking pained. "You attempted to catch a _knife_ in your _unprotected hand._ You could have lost fingers, my lady!"

Desperate now for her understanding, and likely feeling _pity_ for the poor, future bride-to-be of some demon, the guard cupped her cheek in his free leather-gloved hand. Sarah blinked in amazement, and nearly recoiled from just the strangeness of it; he had never taken such liberties with her before. Why would he do so now? Was this an attempt at comforting her? If so, it was not one she entirely liked nor felt comfortable with.

As if to match the tenderness of his caress, his voice softened and dropped in pitch. "I am not unsympathetic to the plight you now find yourself in; truly. I myself know firsthand what foul, loathsome creatures demons can be. When the king announced their imminent arrival, I did all that a man such as myself could do dissuade him from this mad plan. But alas, I am but a guard, and emissaries bearing the demon-kings replies have already come—some arrived weeks ago!" he added bemusedly, speaking more to himself than to Sarah, before turning his attention to her once more.

"I know that you must be terrified of what is to come—horrified by what your future lord and husband shall be—but both the king and I agreed that continuing your combat training with the demons residing in the kingdom can only lead to problems."

Thinking of Jareth, and also not able to simply quietly submit for the _second_ time that day, Sarah frowned at him, her jaw stubbornly set.

"How so?" she asked sharply. Jareth had no qualms with her, a human woman, receiving weapons training. Rather, he had seemed amused by it, and not in a condescending or belittling way, either. And also, if memory served, he had not been shocked by the idea of her learning to defend herself, but more so by the garments she had been adorned with despite not being in training. It had led her to think that demons, so renowned for their fierce, and oft savage ways, possibly allowed their women to learn combat as she did. Although, it truly could be that Jareth was abnormal in his opinions, just as she was in her world. Perhaps male demons could just as cavalier and nonsensical as human ones?

"It may offend them, as they may believe we think them incapable of protecting you themselves, and so seek to make you strong enough to do so yourself." His mouth was set disapprovingly. "Just as any human man would have taken offense had they discovered that their possible bride was being taught to handle a dagger. Their pride would have suffered, and then in turn, so would we. Especially considering certain demon species and their views of females." he added with a grimace.

Closing her eyes, Sarah turned her head away from Uris's hand, and felt him slowly remove the other from her shoulder and step away from her.

"So we shall permanently cease with my training sessions?" Sarah asked, eyes still shut as she abruptly felt inexplicably exhausted, and the previous sadness she had felt return with a vengeance.

_What else shall be so cruelly ripped from me today, I wonder?_

"Yes, princess. Your education has reached its end."

Deeply breathing, she nodded, and after a long moment opened her eyes again. "Very well then." she said, proud of herself for speaking in a voice that was barely hoarse and very nearly tranquil, even if she could not bring herself to meet Uris's eyes. "It is as you say."

Moving away from him and making to head to the stables, Sarah kept her eyes averted to the grass at her feet. "Good day, Uris. I am off."

He spoke before she had a chance to walk away. "Princess, please know, if there is anything in my power I can do to help—"

"Good _day,_ Uris!" she snapped at him, her patience having not fully restored itself from her encounter with Ricard. Besides; what could he, a captain of the guard, do? Also, Sarah was not so sure she would like his idea of help.

Quickly stomping into the stables, she began to quiet her steps once she entered the aisle that lay between the stalls, not wanting to upset the horses. Her own Petal was as stalwart and unflappable as they came, but that was not the case with the other animals.

Spying her darling gray mare, Sarah smiled and gently cooed a greeting to the animal, trying to forget all but the horse, and the prospect of riding like a man through the open fields and non-servant-possessing forests.

"Hello my sweet girl," she murmured, approaching the stall and running her hand softly down Petal's neck, much to the horse's pleasure. "Would you care for a nice night ride, Pet? I know I would."

Setting about brushing and saddling her palfrey, Sarah allowed the news Uris had just given her to finally settle into her mind.

Feeling her throat tighten and her eyes begin to burn, she sniffled and blinked away the developing tears.

_I knew there was the chance Uris would do this after my little stunt this morning; I knew it the moment I reached out to grasp the blade._ She thought,_ and I've much more important things to worry over than whether or not Uris will continue to teach me how to run away screaming, such as how to actually bring myself to choose a husband before Ricard sends me away or chooses for me._

_So why does it still __**hurt**__ so bloody much?_

Leaning forward to gently bury her face in Petal's velvety, warm neck, she sighed, and gave the now-saddled animal one last pat before leading her from the stable, swinging up onto her, and sending her into a swift gallop.

_I'll ride into the clearing in the forest, east of the oak tree where I'm to meet Jareth. Following the river should lead me to it, and also lead me back, if I recall correctly. That way, I shall not be late to meet Jareth, as I should have ample time to travel there and enjoy the lovely place and travel back before sundown._ She thought, mapping out the route in her mind.

A large, devil-may-care grin spread across her mouth, and she tilted her head back to laugh as she urged Petal faster, and felt a gust of wind threaten to loosen her precariously pinned hair.

_I may be losing nearly all I in a few weeks time, but I will be damned if I will not enjoy the few pleasures I have left._ She thought, and before she could once again be consumed by melancholy, searched desperately in the recesses of her mind for _something, anything,_ that which she could console herself with, and was only able to produce this thought, with a pleased smirk.

_At least I can take Petal with me; it is Brrisian custom, and I will rain down on my father with hellfire and brimstone if he should decide to ignore that._

Contented by the sweet air, the billowing breeze, and the thrill of riding a swift horse, Sarah forced out any and all thoughts from her mind, and ignored all else but these things.

… … …

Jareth, who just a moment ago had been happily lounging on his throne, watching his tiny, and endearingly dense little subjects go about playing their games, released a loud groan as an unwanted visitor suddenly appeared in the room.

"That is hardly an appropriate way to greet your elder sister, Jareth darling."

"Lysella," he growled, although it lacked its usual ferocity, and instead sounded akin to a noise a wheedling child might make. "What are you doing here?"

Lysella, Daughter of King Oberon and Queen Titania, Princess of the Fae, and Sister to the Heir of the Fae Crown, simply raised an elegantly poised brow at him and gracefully stepped towards him, eying the goblins who were now happily greeting her.

"Fae lady, fae lady!" they laughingly chanted as they continued with their strange little game in the far corner of the room, not entirely certain of Lysella's identity, but knowing for certain that she was indeed fae, and that she was indeed, a lady, and that they were pleased to see her even if their king was not.

"Hello," she greeted them cordially, her mellifluous voice kind. While his elder sister had little to do with his goblins, being as no one but their monarch ever truly did, she had grown accustomed to them after spending centuries spent visiting her brother in his kingdom.

"You did not answer my question, Lys." Jareth said petulantly, crossing his arms as he threw one leg over an armrest, and propped his opposite foot beside it. He was fond of his sister, yes, but he sincerely doubted that any grown man enjoyed their sibling checking up on them or nagging at them to procure a wife.

Lysella, who possessed the delicate and finely-hewed features of their mother, as opposed his own angular and sharply attractive features (inherited from his father's mother, he had been told) as well deep violet eyes, swan-white skin, and hair similar to Jareth's in coloring but not in texture, was renowned as the most beautiful women in the Fae territories, and also perhaps one of the most cunning.

Jareth was not certain on the former, but when it came to the latter, he most certainly believed it to be true. He would know; he had been reared alongside her.

"I am here, Jareth, to see if the rumors our sires have heard regarding you and the potential courtship of a mortal princess are nothing but falsehoods." Lysella stated, fixing him with a deathly stare that contradicted her dulcet tones.

Languidly tilting his head at her, he pursed his lips as he surveyed his sister, noting the subtle differences in her appearance from when he had last seen her, and the subtle tightness in her eyes that betrayed some unknown emotion.

"You risked coming here to this gods-damnded placed simply to verify a bit of hearsay for our beloved parents?" He tsked at her chidingly. "Mother and father should know better than to believe the gabs of court; just weeks ago they were convinced I was taking an elven lady for wife, and before that they believed I was the sire of Lady Halena's get. You know, the one born out of wedlock?"

"They did not hear it from the gossips." Lysella bit out, her eyes now orbs of purple flame. "They heard it from the mouths of their most trusted advisers, and simply wish to know if they should risk allowing their hopes of someday welcoming a daughter-by-law into the family to rise." She glared at Jareth as he did nothing but continue to watch her, a bored expression on his face. "Now _you_ are the one not answering questions, brother."

Heaving a great, gusty sigh, Jareth pushed himself up into a sitting position, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Lysella, you are so bloody easy to rile." he grumbled at her. "And not that I really consider it our parents' business, but if they truly must know, then yes. I _am_ expected in a human kingdom, _with_ the intent of playing suitor to its princess." he shrugged, and settled back into his throne. "If our mother and father wish to hope I find the match favorable that is their affair, but I strongly suggest they do not."

"And pray tell _why?"_ Lysella asked icily.

"Because the princess hails from the Brrisian kingdom, dearest sister, and I only agreed to go so as to satisfy my curiosity of what the daughter of their bastard king was like." he paused, and added "And also to placate mother and her ever-growing desire for grandchildren."

He watched as his sister silently stared at him, too surprised to even blink, then released a hellacious screech that would have sent a lesser man fleeing in terror. As it was, the goblins scrambled to dive for cover, cowering and peering over at the irate princess.

"_Brrisa? _Of all the human princesses you can consider for consort, you choose _Brrisa?!_ The girl's father is a wretched excuse for a monarch, and a bloody demon-loathing bigot to top it off, and you decide to just go waltzing into their kingdom with the intent of considering her for wife? Are you _utterly_ mad?!" Lysella waved her arms in an exasperated gesture, and Jareth just continued to watch his usually composed sister with ever-growing amusement. "He could be setting a trap in place!" she shouted, "Or instruct the girl to kill you in your sleep if gods forbid you do choose to marry her! Or—"

"Lysella." Jareth interrupted, a fond look on his face. "Listen to yourself. Do you truly think I am going into that kingdom blinded by trust? I have been watching the Brrisians for some time now, seeing as my goblins are some of their chief tormentors. Their kingdom is suffering from the effects of demon trickery, and soon enough it will begin to pose serious problems for them. King Ricard may be a domineering, prejudiced idiot, but he oddly enough seems to care about his country, and has been trying to marry off that daughter of his for years. Were you in his place, would you bother to go to the trouble of inviting a bunch of filthy demons into your kingdom under the guise of a potential marriage contract only so you can try and slaughter the lot of them? I think not." he said with a shake of his head, and a negligent shrug. "It only makes sense, for him to do what he is doing, after all. Brrisa would profit greatly from a smart match with one of the ruling demons."

Lysella huffed, and crossed her arms across her middle while she tossed her fair head. She knew had been proved wrong, but that did not mean she would acknowledge the defeat. "I still say you should go to the elven kingdoms and seduce Thelarys's youngest girl; she would bring a needed pact between our races."

Jareth made a face, and pushed himself up off his throne, conjuring a crystal in each of his hands and morphing them into intricately carved crystal goblets. One was filled with the sweet peach wine his sister favored, and the other with the heady, spiced red wine he preferred. He handed her the goblet, which she accepted after a moment of deliberation for the peace-offering she knew it to be.

"Thelarys's youngest is but fifteen. _Newly_ fifteen." he reminded her, sipping his wine and beginning to walk. "Come, we'll go to my study. The goblins won't disturb us there."

Walking beside him, looking like the epitome of grace, Lysella took a dainty drink from her own goblet. "True, but she is still of marrying age." Another sip. "And even if you still find the idea of bedding one so young distasteful, you can always defer the marriage for until she is older." His sister had another taste of her wine, her face showing her appreciation. "This is quite good." she complimented, "Whenever I conjure foodstuffs, they are always lacking in flavor."

"That is because you are not so large a hedonist as I." Jareth said with a grin, and a playful wink. "You always believed mother's teachings of restraint and self-control, whereas I took after father and indulge my every whim."

"Hm." Lysella hummed in agreement, a wry little smile gracing her perfect lips.

As they walked through the halls of the Castle Beyond the Goblin City (Jareth had always felt that his castle's title was a rather unimaginative one) Jareth glanced at the sun's placement in the sky whenever they passed a window.

_I'm to meet the girl at sunset, _Jareth reminded himself. _I've time to visit with Lys before then, especially considering that I can be there in a fingersnap's time._

"Aside from meddling in my life, sister dearest, what else have you been up to?" he inquired.

"Oh, little else, really," his sister replied. "aside from fending off ambitious suitors and trying to convince father to allow me to reign over one of the kingdoms in our control."

"Which one were you fighting for this time?" he asked with a deprecating grin.

"The fairy kingdom." Lysella replied with a glare. "Honestly, Jareth, I still cannot understand why father will not delegate me more power. I am just as proficient in magic as you, I_ surpass_ you in years, and been groomed in the art of politics just as you have. I'm beginning to think he only overlooks me because I am not a man." she mumbled as she stared into her goblet, and Jareth grimaced at her words.

"Lys," he said tiredly, "I am sorry that you feel spurned because I was named heir in your stead. Really, I am. I could care less about ruling over the fae one day; in truth, I would almost prefer he _had_ chosen you. Although how you can envy me being named king of a lot of diminutive half-wits is entirely beyond me."

"Because I am _eldest._" Lysella snapped at him, "The elder child has not been passed over in the line of succession in centuries; father had no reason to name you heir in place of me."

Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, Jareth rubbed at his brow with a gloved hand. "I'm sure he had his reasons, sister." he said, weary of having the same argument with his sister for what felt to be the thousandth time. Who in their bleeding mind would _choose_ to rule over a conniving, capricious, and mischievous race such as the fae? "Also, the only reason a firstborn hasn't been skipped in centuries is because we haven't had a change of _monarch_ in centuries. Five, if I remember right, and then another five afore that."

"You are too much father's son to understand." she growled bitingly. "And you do not spend enough time at court to see how others treat me, what indignities I endure."

"Talking against a member of the royal family is considered treason." He pointedly reminded her. "Have father execute them if you like; I'm sure that'll stop them from snickering at you."

"Perhaps," she said coldly, "but that shall not stop them from looking at me as if I am deficient, or unworthy."

"You are neither of those things, Lys, and I shall bog every man who dares to say otherwise." he told her gently, and earned not the grateful smile he had expected, but instead a bewildered frown.

"Bog?" she questioned. "Whatever do you mean by _bog,_ Jary?"

He made an irritated noise in the back of his throat at the use of the name his sister had bequeathed him during their childhood, although mainly it was to hid his relief at the change of subject. When it came to discussing their father's decision on naming his heir, Lysella could be rather like a dog with a fresh bone. _"Must_ you call me that, Lys?"

"You did not mind it when you were but a little prince shadowing me all about the castle."

"Yes, but now I am a king." He told her sulkily, "It wouldn't do for me to be referred to by such a demeaning name. _Jary."_ he scoffed, and gulped his wine. "Gods, couldn't you have called me something else?"

"As if you are one to talk." Lysella smirked at him. "You still refer to me as Lys more oft than not. And what sort of name is _Lys_ for a princess, I ask you? A poor one, I'll say."

"How droll." Jareth said with a smirk, and seeing that they had arrived at his study, waved the door open with his hand and smoothly continued on inside, followed by his sister.

Once they were both seated, Lysella like the regal lady that she was and Jareth like some common, slouching lout, Lysella cocked her head at him.

"Are you really considering marrying the Brrisian mortal?" she asked, clearly curious about her brother's plans. Jareth gave a noncommittal shrug, prompting his sister to say, "You realize that you shrug far more than any good monarch should, don't you?"

"Quiet," he ordered teasingly. "And to answer your question, I am not sure. If I find her agreeable than yes, I certainly shall give some thought to marrying her, but I do not plan on deciding until after I have met her and seen her temperament for myself."

"Don't you mean until after you have seen her _face_ for yourself, Jareth?" she asked wickedly, her violet eyes dancing with humor.

"Hm, that too, darling sister." Jareth agreed lascivious chuckle.

Lysella opened her mouth to speak, but went still as her eyes became unfocused for the briefest of seconds before sighing in vexation, vanishing her goblet with barely a thought. "Some adviser or another is summoning me; they wish to know if the rumors of you are lies or not."

"Feel free to say that they are," Jareth encouraged, "The last thing I want is to be bothered by their inane questions and pelted with their unwanted advice."

"A lovely thought, that, but mother will have my head when she discovers I've lied." Lysella said with a melodious laugh. "I suppose you'll just have to put up with them and their questions."

"Oh joy." Jareth said dryly, and stood with his sister so as to buss her cheek goodbye. "Farewell sister. I wish you luck in surviving the tedium of court."

"And I wish you luck in surviving the antics of the chaotic little beasts that are your subjects." she said as she gave him a kiss on his own cheek, before stepping back, and gathering the magic she would need to transport herself. "Mother would like you to visit, by the by; she says if you don't, she will come here, and bring with her all of the eligible ladies she knows."

With that delightful little parting blow, a smug Lysella left, leaving Jareth alone with the horrifying thought of his mother visiting, with an entourage of stupid, simpering fae women behind her, all of them eager to sink their aspiring claws into him and become the next fae queen.

"Damn you, mother," he muttered fondly, "You always know just how to make me yield."

Chuckling, he looked out one of the large, grandiose windows he had in his study, and noted that the sun would be dangerously close to setting in Brrisa.

"Time to meet the delightful Sarah, I suppose." he said with a sharp grin, and quaffing the last of his wine and banishing the cup from existence, he willed himself away to their scenic tree by the river, which lay so dangerously close to the Brrisian castle and all of its guards.

… … …

"Damn." Sarah cursed as she glanced up at the sky. There was no help for it, she was going to be late meeting Jareth. "I knew I shouldn't have made the damn crown." she muttered as she nudged Petal to go faster, and then faster still.

After having reached the meadow, Sarah had discovered that it had been filled with blooming flowers—not shocking, given the season—and had felt the urge to gather them in bunches and construct herself a little crown, like she had done as a child under her mother's instruction. Before Belinda had become weak and ill from her innumerable miscarriages and pregnancies, that is. Or as she had done with Tavin, when he had taken her out on rides to chase butterflies and search for animal dens.

Truthfully, she had simply wanted to feel young again.

The final result of all her hard, time-consuming labor, was a pretty thing made entirely of white and pale purple flowers intertwined in a complex pattern, and sat proudly atop her head, slightly askew due to the poor job she had done in pinning her hair earlier.

"Come Pet, I know you go faster than that." she murmured to her horse, who responded with what sounded like a snorting retort. "Oh hush." she told the animal. "Who are you to judge me on promptness?"

"I hope Jareth won't be so very annoyed with me." she said on, frowning briefly before shaking her head, a small smile on her lips. "Although once he hears what it was that kept me, I sincerely doubt he shall think to be angry."

"He will likely be too busy laughing."

* * *

**I know, I know, I know. Outrage over lack of J/S interaction, right? Would you not flay me alive if I said I plan to have the next chap be filled with Sarah/Jareth banter? And that I plan on working my butt off to get it written? And that I had every intention of having them meet in this chap, but the desire to develop Jareth's character a bit more was too strong? And I think the conversation between Lysella and Jareth was kinda funny, right? I mean, she called the flippin' Goblin King _Jary._ **

**Also, some of you are probably getting into a tizzy over Lysella being Jareth's older sister yet not being the future ruler of the fae. Well, rest assured, the why/how of that will be explained, as will the funky and slightly original workings I instilled in the fae monarchy. I mean, c'mon, they're a mythological race set in a fantasy world; why should their politics and rules of government be the same as the human ones? **

**Anyways, as always, feel free to leave feedback, good or bad, and also please do me the honor of informing me of any typos you happen to spot while reading; a few just always manage to somehow make it through the cracks, it seems.**

**Farewell for now, my lovelies! Thanks again for reading! **

**Oh, and for you fellow Americans out there, have a good fourth! (For those who are not Americans and don't know what the flying flip I'm talking about, feel free to ignore this.)**


End file.
